


Before the Garden and Beyond

by kateliz



Series: Garden [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death, Deception, Fluff, Harry Black, M/M, Multi, Transformation, War, Werewolf, au from fifth year on, glamour charms, heritage, weird magic stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 02:12:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 61,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8559340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateliz/pseuds/kateliz
Summary: This is the companion fic to In the Garden, which can be read separately or together. Draco ends his Fifth Year unhappy with how his family wants to align themselves in the upcoming war and seeks asylum. His plans are derailed when the Dark Lord has a punishment for Lucius in mind that involves him. Meanwhile, Harry is brooding the loss of his late godfather when an unexpected transformation takes hold, leaving him more hurting than before.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion fic that people were asking for In the Garden. It will be uploaded slowly so apologies in advance!

Draco had never been in Professor Dumbledore’s office before, he realized as he sat in front of the intimidatingly large mahogany desk, filled to the brim with the oddest assortment of candies and trinkets. The old man was always a bit childish for Draco’s tastes, but his parents had warned him of the Headmaster’s undeniable strength and power. They warned against being taken under the man’s wing. Draco allowed himself a snort at that one – it looked as though that was now unavoidable. 

In the months between 4th and 5th Year, Malfoy Manor had been occupied by a very unexpected visitor. Although he didn’t see him very much, Draco felt instantaneously unwelcome and uncomfortable in his home while the Dark Lord occupied it, and there seemed to be no end in sight. His father, whom Draco thought would be gleeful about Voldemort’s return, seemed as though the wind were knocked out of his sails – in fact, Draco found his father to be more frightened and skittish than anything, continually sneaking glances at him in concern whenever he got the chance. His mother, too, seemed worried. All of the glorious stories told to him as a child about the time before Harry Potter defeated Voldemort seemed to have lost their luster as his return became a reality creaking up and down the stairs at night. Draco wanted no part of it. 

Draco was not a fighter unless it was for his own gain. Grown in the comfortable habitus of bourgeois life, Draco never fancied himself a follower. Even at Hogwarts, fellow classmates tended toward following him around, willing to fall in line behind him as he orchestrated childhood pranks and taunt against his favorite green-eyed target. The thought of giving up his independence and leadership qualities, like his father seemed to be crumbling towards, was not appealing to the Malfoy Heir. 

His mother, sensing the malaise Draco was now experiencing, pulled him aside over the Winter Holiday while on a shopping venture, away from the darkened and suffocating Manor. “Get out,” she commanded. “I’ve made my choice, you should be able to make your own as well.” Despite Draco’s protests of not wanting to leave his mother, who he had grown quite inseparable from, Narcissa had convinced him to seek out Dumbledore for asylum without his father knowing. His heart hurt thinking about her now, but she probably saved his life. 

It took him until after the Battle at the Department of Mysteries for Draco to develop the backbone to approach Dumbledore, and he was all too pleased to meet with the young heir. “To what do I owe this pleasure to, Mr. Malfoy?” he asked, announcing his presence to a very startled Draco. 

The blonde cleared his throat, begging Merlin for some nerve. “I require asylum, Professor,” he managed. 

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, bright blue eyes examining Draco, making him feel as though he were being seen through. He doesn’t believe me, does he? Draco thought to himself, misery setting in. “Why don’t you have a cup of tea, Draco?” he responded, indicating to a mug and kettle. Veritaserum, Draco supposed. Well, if that was the way out, he would oblige. 

“Surely, sir,” Draco replied, taking a sip from the mug. He could taste Severus’s brew anywhere. As he felt the familiar light-headedness associated with the truth serum take hold, Draco tried not to take offense to the headmaster drugging him. After all, were he in the same position, he would probably do no different. 

Dumbledore settled into his seat with his own cup of tea, observing Draco behind his half-moon spectacles. “Why do you feel the need for asylum, Draco?” he probed.

“I’m not willing to fight for a monster, sir. And if I continue to stay in my home I may have no choice,” the Malfoy heir explained. “I cannot possibly go back home this summer and face him; my father has obviously failed him in some way and I know I will get a death sentence in return. If I don’t have asylum, I’m dead either way. I’m not a fighter, sir, and I am not a monster.” Draco’s cheeks heated. He didn’t mean to say all of those things, but the words just tumbled out. 

The headmaster’s expression changed from one of examination to one of concern. I guess he was expecting something different, Draco supposed. “Is the Dark Lord in your house, Draco?” he asked. 

Draco tried to swallow down his answer to save his mother but found he could not. “Yes,” he gritted out. That was simply unfair. “Or at least he was this summer,” he amended. “He was weak; he could be anywhere now.”

“That must have been very trying for you, my dear boy.” Draco had to suppress rolling his eyes at that one. “Does your father know of your intentions?”

“No, sir. I didn’t want to risk compromising my life – nor did my mother.”

“Is your mother requesting asylum as well?”

“No, sir. I’m going on my own. To be frank, I am terrified.” 

Dumbledore reached across the desk and placed his hand over Draco’s in understanding. “You remind me of another from a less than welcoming family, but you sought help a little earlier and for that, I am grateful.” The older man smiled at Draco, something he had never experienced before. “I will grant you asylum, but I’m not guaranteeing you will enjoy the company.”

Draco sighed in relief. “Sir, I’ll live with the entire Weasley clan if that means I can be safe.”

Draco wished he hadn’t said that. 

He was quiet on the train ride home, surrounded by people who will soon know that he had defected from his family. Would he even be safe in Slytherin come next fall? Would he even be able to return to school? He felt the wind knocked out of him as he imagined the gravity of his request. Does asylum mean being locked away? Would he have to take his NEWTs remotely? He suddenly didn’t feel as though he were in welcoming company and he was itching to run. 

The train came to a halt soon enough and he made his way towards Severus, who Dumbledore told to approach. He couldn’t help himself from shaking as he drew nearer to his godfather, worried that he would whisk him away to the Manor for a quick slaughter. He found his fears confirmed – not by Severus, but by his father himself. Shit, he thought. This was unexpected. He put on a brave face, lest everything be destroyed. 

“Hello Father. You usually send the car,” Draco said, covering for his surprise. 

Lucius was stiffer than usual. This could not be good. “The car is in use, so I had to fetch you myself,” he explained, voice devoid of emotion. His blue eyes stood out starkly against his pallid complexion. Something was not right. 

“Not mother?”

“No. Not today. Let’s go, Draco. You are required home.”

Draco glanced, quite frightened, at Severus. He began to think quickly. “Uncle Sev and I were going to the Leaky Cauldron for a job well done on my OWLs. Can we just meet you back home for dinner?” he asked his father, who responded by gripping his arm tightly. Severus looked mildly panicked, stuck between giving up his double agentry or planning to rescue Draco later. Unfortunately, for Draco, Severus chose the latter, obviously more loyal to Dumbledore than to his own godson. Figures. 

“Maybe another time. Come along now.” Lucius roughly pulled Draco away from the Muggle onlookers and Severus, walking briskly. As they approached a safe apparation point, Lucius muttered, “I’m so sorry, son,” before whisking him away from King’s Cross. 

To say that Draco was in a state of mild panic as they appeared outside the Manor was a complete understatement. He felt himself struggling to breathe, especially after the side along apparation he just took part in, and he was becoming very disoriented. Why was his father apologizing? What was to become of him?

He didn’t have very much time to consider what was happening until he found himself in front of Lord Voldemort himself. It was all he could do not to pass out, trembling greatly after a whiplash of an afternoon. Where was Severus? Why wasn’t he faster? He couldn’t help but feel that all was lost. There were no other followers present but his father. A private punishment was rare- he wondered what Lucius had done do garner such an appointment. 

“Good to see you can follow orders this time, Lucius,” Voldemort said, his high voice full of disdain. His father seemed to stiffen more if at all possible. He inclined his head in a jarring motion, a clear act of submission. Draco felt ill.

“Of course, my Lord,” he murmured. “Draco is happy to be here.”

“Where’s mother?” Draco couldn’t help himself from asking. 

“Silence,” Voldemort hissed angrily. Draco flinched, sure he would be punished, and looked down. “This boy is insolent, Lucius. How dare he speak when not spoken to?”

“This is unlike him, my Lord. He must be nervous to be in such an esteemed presence.”

“Crucio!” Draco watched as his father fell to the floor, writhing in agony. This was no game. There was no glory or independence on the Dark Side. All of the folk tales his father told of the good times were just that – folk tales. Every experience Draco has had involving Voldemort had convinced him that the man was an egomaniac hell bent on controlling everyone. Draco set his jaw at that thought, gaining some nerve. He would not die a coward. “Do you know what your father cost me, young Draco?” he asked. 

Draco looked back into Voldemort’s red eyes, carefully guarding his thoughts to protect Severus. “I’m not sure,” he whispered, scared that if he spoke too loudly, he’d be joining his father on the floor. 

“He cost me the key to defeating Harry Potter and pushing our cause even further.” At that, he twisted his wand forcefully, causing Lucius to cry out. Draco grew even more pale. 

“He has set back our cause greatly, and, thus, must pay even greater.”

“Please, my Lord,” Lucius coughed out. “I am so sorry.”

“You were beaten by fourteen year olds. Tell me that wasn’t part of some plan.”

“The Order came, my Lord. You saw them.”

“Silence,” Voldemort hissed once more. “Even so, Lucius. You have failed. You have forced us to spill pure blood, and you have embarrassed everyone. You are nothing.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lucius cried. “I will not fail you again.”

“I would hope not, Lucius,” the Dark Lord advised. “Lest you want to completely end your line.”

“Please don’t touch her.”

“Where’s mother?” Draco asked again, becoming frightened once more. 

“She doesn’t want to see such a coward and failure, dear Draco. She must miss his punishment,” Voldemort explained. 

“Why am I here, then?”

Voldemort finally lifted the Cruciatus Curse to focus his full attention on the Malfoy Heir. As he neared Draco, he felt his blood run cold. “Your father does not feel remorse from the normal gamut of punishment, Draco. He is simply too privileged and unaffected to correct his behavior from a simple Cruciatus. For him to get the message, something irreplaceable must be damaged. And I’m sorry to see such pure blood be destroyed by this, but actions must be taken.”

“But I haven’t done anything,” Draco tried to explain. “Why must I suffer for his transgressions?”

“Your father’s incompetence affects the entire family, young Draco. We must hurry, though, the moon is rising.”

“What do you mean?”

“Imperio!” Draco felt a cloudiness wash over him. Suddenly his concerns for his parents did not seem very important to him. “Go down to the dungeon, Draco, and patiently wait.” That sounded like reasonable request, Draco thought. He calmly walked down into the dungeons, ignoring Lucius’s cries. He sat himself next to a man he did not know, who looked to be in some sort of distress. He smiled blandly at him, not hearing the door locking behind him. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” the man grunted, clearly in the throes of something. 

Draco was confused. “Why would I be afraid? I’m just sitting here.”

“Of course he’d Imperio you. Hope to see you alive in the morning,” the man growled out, changing. 

“Well that’s very nice. I wish the same to you,” Draco replied dreamily, only to begin screaming horribly as the now wolf clamped down on him. He blacked out, feeling no more. 

Draco woke up the next morning in his bed and immediately felt ill. Sweat was pouring from his body and he wasn’t sure where he was. He tried to lift his arm to check the time and was met with excruciating pain. He cried out loudly. What had happened to him? He chanced a glance at his arm and saw that it was heavily bandaged from his bicep to a little over the crook of his elbow but blood was oozing through. The night came rushing back to him, causing him to lean over and empty the contents of his stomach on the hardwood floor. 

“That’s pretty standard for the first day.” Draco jumped and turned towards his door. The man from last night was there, leaning gingerly against the wall. He was a very broad shouldered man and very tall. His face looked young but his eyes seemed very old, shining a bright amber. He had a large cut below his left eye, Draco wondered if he tried to flee the night before. He knew this man. 

“Fenrir Greyback.”

The man gave a slanted grin. He didn’t seem as feral as Draco was warned about. “Sorry about yesterday, kid. I don’t like changing those with families already in place.”

“What about Professor Lupin?”

“Ah. That was personal. It looks like both of you paid for your fathers’ transgressions. Too bad yours is a horrid shit who can’t even look you in the eye now.” Fenrir walked towards him and Draco shrank as far back as he could against his headboard. “I just want to check your wound, relax.”

He gently lifted Draco’s arm, who whimpered in pain but otherwise made no protest. Fenrir lifted the bandages slightly and winced. “How bad is it?”

“Well it’s not pretty if that’s what you’re asking.”

Draco sighed in despair. “I wasn’t even supposed to be here,” he agonized. 

“Well you won’t be here soon. Your father packed your things. We’re leaving in about an hour.”

This stunned Draco. He bolted up out of bed. “What?” he exclaimed. “How dare he cause me pain and force me to leave?!” He brushed past Fenrir, ignoring the searing pain down his arm and burst into his father’s study, startling the older man.

“What are you doing out of bed, Draco?” he asked. 

Draco snarled. “What’s this business about me leaving, then?”

Lucius stood. “I just can’t have this in the line. You have to understand,” he explained.

“Oh, I understand. You’re a bloody coward is what I understand.” 

“Please, Draco, don’t be so dramatic. It’s only an official disownment. You’ll still have your inheritance, of course.”

“I don’t really care about my inheritance, father!” Draco exclaimed. “You could have let me go. You could have accepted an alternate punishment. You didn’t have to whisk me away to this fate. You are a coward and now I’m a monster and I can’t stand to look at you.”

Lucius had the sense to look chastised. “I’m sorry, Draco. I wish I could’ve been more for you.”

Draco huffed. “Whatever. I guess I’m off. Send mother my love.”

And that was that. 

It didn’t truly hit Draco that he was changed until he found himself deep in the werewolf colony, surrounded by Fenrir’s kin. “I can’t be here,” he said. “I need to leave.”

Fenrir frowned at him. “I gave you a nice room. Probably the best besides mine,” he mused. “I didn’t want to harm you but the Dark Lord is a bastard.” He wasn’t lying. Fenrir had ignored the cries and complaints from his pack when he let Draco settle in one of the largest set of rooms in their vast community, usually reserved for guests of honor, such as previous pack mates who have forged amiable connections with the wizarding world or potential allies. It was a lavish area, much like a penthouse apartment, with a large living area filled with plush couches, bookshelves, and other comforts, a kitchen and adjoining dining room, a beautifully pristine bathroom with a rain shower and tub not unlike the one in the Prefect’s bathroom, and a huge bedroom with a queen sized bed in the center. Draco had the realization that werewolves may live deep in the forests, but they still enjoyed the comforts of wizarding and city life, and worked to maintain those as well. But it was of no use. 

“I don’t care about the room. I want to leave.” 

Fenrir sat opposite of Draco at the dining room table where he was currently whining. “Leaving won’t change who you are now.” Draco’s eyes began to well up as full realization took hold. “I don’t want to keep you from leaving if you want to go. I worry what your first moon will bring if you don’t stay.” At Draco’s silence, Fenrir continued. “My pack lives well. We don’t want for much that we can’t achieve by ourselves through our connections and wherewithal. You will not suffer here. You can still go to school – Dumbledore has a deal with our pack.”

“I thought you had a deal with Voldemort. That’s why I was changed, wasn’t it?” Draco asked.

Fenrir grinned at him and Draco saw his feralness for the first time, making him uneasy. “I thought you were a Slytherin. You have to learn to play your cards right. We’re neutral in this war. We weigh our options in who we aid and when based on the survival of our colony. This is how we maintain our comforts and privilege in society.” 

That made sense to Draco. He suddenly got an idea. “If you work with Dumbledore, then you can get in contact with him. I was granted asylum but got intercepted. No offense, your colony seems nice and all, but I would like to go where I was supposed to be in the first place.”

Fenrir sighed and stood. “I’ll see what I can do. But for now, try to relax. If anything, this has given you a ticket out of the conflict. You’re just a child – you shouldn’t have been thrown into this.”

“You show remorse and sense for someone known for stealing children,” Draco couldn’t help but blurt out. His chances were ruined now, weren’t they?

“The wives tales spread about what I do are ridiculous. I don’t steal children. I save them from orphanhood or aggressive and abusive situations. Your dear professor’s father might have said horrid things about our condition but his wife also had an abusive streak. I wanted to help him, not ruin his life.” Draco looked down, heat rising to his cheeks. “I’ll see you in a bit. Don’t hide in here all day.” And with that, Fenrir stormed out. Draco felt doomed. 

He didn’t heed Fenrir’s words and hid out for the first few days, willing his arm to heal. He couldn’t cook with the state of his arm so Fenrir’s beta would bring him food every day. Jack was apparently Fenrir’s biological son, and he was much less broad and had a kinder face. He’d tut at his wound, stressing that Fenrir didn’t need to treat him like a rag doll, but from what Draco gathered, Fenrir was under the Dark Lord’s persuasion as well. Jack would stay and eat with Draco, knowing that while he wasn’t comfortable throwing himself into pack life just yet, he was probably in need of some semblance of company. As the days wore on, Draco began to feel a little more at home, and decided to venture outside. 

The community really resembled city life. They resided in a vast paved clearing with stable buildings and multiple housing developments. In addition, the center of the clearing served as a marketplace and social area of sorts, where the werewolves congregated to shop, socialize, and play games. “It’s really not so different,” muttered Draco. He felt a hand clap on his shoulder and he looked up to see Fenrir grinning down at him. 

“Nice to see you leaving the cave. I was starting to worry you’d become so pale you’d disappear,” he joked. Draco grimaced in return. “How is the arm doing?”

Draco flexed it and winced. “It’s not so bad. I’m having trouble holding things, though.”

“You’ve probably atrophied it with my son waiting on you hand and foot.”

Draco chuckled. “He’s very nice,” he commented. 

“He’s got more of his mother than me in him,” Fenrir replied. Draco wondered where she was. “The moon is coming. Have you been driving yourself mad with worry?”

Draco was too busy feeling sorry for himself to even consider when he would be transforming. In fact, he had been so irate at his father this entire time that it hadn’t even crossed his mind until just then, causing him to furrow his brow in concern. “I thought we got sick from the moon,” he chose to say. “I haven’t felt its pull yet.”

“We do feel a bit ill, yes, but only when it draws very near. We rest for a few days after each transformation, as that does take its toll. The effects are generally worse on wolfsbane.”

“I thought that was the only way to remain in control.”

“You can maintain control through accepting the wolf as yourself. Some wizards become so disgusted and disassociated with themselves that they can only poison themselves to remain in control.”

“Or,” a voice said from behind him, “it’s Ministry mandated for employment.” It was Professor Lupin. Draco could kiss him in relief. He suddenly felt awful for the hell he put him through while he was teaching at Hogwarts. “Stop feeding him nonsense, Dad.” Draco didn’t expect that colloquialism. 

“Remus!” Fenrir smiled and enveloped him into a tight hug of obvious familiarity. “How are you? You look thin.” Fenrir’s amber eyes raked over the younger werewolf in concern, taking in his worn robes and sullen features.

Remus managed a soft smile at him. “I’m fine. Sorry it took so long to get here. It’s been a difficult few weeks.”

“I heard about Sirius,” Fenrir continued. “I’m very sorry. He was a good man.”

Remus bowed his head in thanks, eyes a little darker. “Yes he was. I wish I could’ve been home to mourn but there is little time for that these days.” He then turned to Draco. “I heard what happened to you. I’m so sorry about it. We’re going to get it sorted out, I promise,” he smiled reassuringly at Draco. 

“Am I going to leave?” Draco asked hopefully. While he had grown to enjoy the pack’s company over the short time he had spent here, Draco was ready to be with normal wizards again. This place only served to remind the ex-Heir of his plight and frankly, he’d rather not have it at the forefront of his mind at all hours of the day. 

“Not immediately.” Draco deflated slightly. Noting this, Remus provided more. “I think you should have your first moon here. It helps to be surrounded by a pack – less self-harm occurs. Besides, you might not be too thrilled to find who your roommates are when we get to the safe house.”

“I can room with a Hippogriff and I honestly wouldn’t care at this point,” Draco huffed. 

“It can’t be that bad here,” Remus admonished. 

“I just want to get back to normalcy – or some semblance of it at least.”

“Oh, Draco.” There was the pity he was waiting for. He loathed it. “Even if you weren’t turned, this war is going to destroy any normalcy any of us has had. It’s worse than the first time. We’re facing someone not even nearly human – it’s going to affect us all.”

“Well that’s reassuring, professor. Thanks so much,” Draco replied bitingly. Remus stared at him as if he saw a ghost. Fenrir barked out a laugh. 

“I knew you were a Black, I was just waiting for it to show up,” he laughed. 

“I’m just being truthful. If I’m not leaving today, I’ll just be in my rooms.” He turned to go and was quickly grabbed by the good arm by Fenrir. 

“You are staying out today. You’re going to meet your pack.” Draco paled at this. “Don’t do that, you’ll disappear.”

Draco was then promptly introduced to everyone in the town. There was a shocking amount of adolescents who were adamant that Fenrir had saved their lives. Most of them had last names that were familiar to the Death Eater circles. Draco wondered how Fenrir was able to take them without falling out of alliance with Voldemort. The adults in the village were young and vibrant, causing Draco to wonder if werewolves aged. If he was being honest with himself, Draco found Professor Lupin to look quite young compared to Professor Snape – it seemed as though he hadn’t aged past his early twenties. The only time he showed any wear was during the full moon. It had just occurred to Draco that he hadn’t caught himself in the mirror since he was turned. Would he recognize himself? Would he look like the villagers? Were his eyes no longer the bright silver he had grown to love? At this thought, he had to sit down outside of a shop on the sidewalk, pull his knees against his chest, and try to stop panicking. 

Alarmed, Jack, who was introducing him to everyone, knelt beside him. “Are you alright?” he asked. 

Draco looked up at him, breathing heavily. “What color are my eyes?” he whispered. 

Jack, more confused, replied “they’re silver. Like mercury. Is everything okay?”

Draco sighed in relief. “Oh thank Merlin,” he gushed. “I’m fine, I just realized that I might look different now.”

Jack nodded in realization. “You’ll look a bit healthier if you take care of yourself. Our prey is unfortunately people, so we look a little more attractive than the average wizard.  
More angular and symmetrical. Though, if I’m remembering correctly, the Malfoys and Blacks already sort of look that way genetically. I’m assuming you don’t look too different from before. Eyes are probably brighter.” That was reassuring to Draco who found his breath and stood back up. 

“Thanks, Jack.”

Later that night, Draco was agonizing in his rooms, which he found were actually Remus’s while he was here. The two were having a quiet dinner. “So, you call Fenrir dad?” he asked, not being one for subtlety. Remus nearly choked on the soup they were eating. 

“Uh, yeah,” he offered in return. At the ex-Malfoy’s raised brow, Remus continued. “When I was turned, my mother took it as an opportunity to abandon me. She didn’t really like the abnormal. Frankly, I think I cramped her style to begin with – not really the mothering type. My father ruthlessly persecuted werewolves for years and I think he took my mother’s abandonment as a blessing. He did continue to financially support me, though. Paying for schoolbooks, keeping the village well-kept so I didn’t suffer much. Fenrir took me in without question. I was younger than his usual victims. I got attached. Hence, dad.”

“How old were you?” Draco interjected, almost regretting asking but fueled by morbid curiosity. 

“I was five,” Remus supplied. Draco looked ill. 

“Your mother is a monster.”

Remus laughed without humor. “Yeah, I guess you can say that.”

“Is Jack like your brother, then?”

“Sort of. He’s a bit older than me. He was already a teenager when I showed up, making him more quasi uncle to be honest.”

“I’m really struggling with gaging how old everyone is here.”

“Ah, yes. The lack of ageing thing. Didn’t you pay attention when Severus was trying to out me?” Remus joked. 

“Not very closely, obviously.”

“It’s to appear attractive to potential ‘prey’ and also to gain favor based on aesthetics. We get a bad wrap in the wizarding world, we need anything we can get to survive. Fenrir’s pack is also immortal. If we aged, we’d look a bit odd later on, don’t you think?”

“So I won’t age. I won’t die either?” Draco asked.

“Well, not by natural means. You can die other ways, but it’s pretty uncommon if you keep yourself safe.”

“Wow,” Draco breathed. 

Draco found his excitement at the prospect of immortality to be very short lived after his first full moon. 

He was told to meditate in the days leading up to the moon as it would help in remaining connected to his conscious during the night. A practiced Occlumens, Draco did as he was told quite easily, letting the comfort of mindlessness take over for an hour each day. Nobody around him seemed frightened by the moon, in fact, they seemed excited at the prospect of joining together under the cover of darkness. Even Remus, who he was sure was self-loathing at best, seemed to be happy to be changing with everyone. Draco couldn’t share in their excitement – he was all nerves. 

When the night finally came, it was worse than Draco could imagine. A fever had broken out early in the morning, leaving him shaking and vomiting. “I need to put you in stasis,” Fenrir had told him about midday when his fever refused to break. “If you don’t rest beforehand, you can be destroyed.” Too ill to respond, Draco passively allowed Fenrir to force sleep upon him. As he woke mid-transformation, the pain was worse than he could have imagined. He didn’t know if the people around him were experiencing the same turmoil, his screams overshadowed everything else. 

Being his wolf was the most exciting part of the night. He was still mentally in the back of his head, but the instinctive nature of the canine side of him took over, and he found himself letting loose and feeling joy running with the pack. He hadn’t felt this happy in a while. He stuck to Remus and Jack mostly, and they were happy to show him the ropes, nudging him along the trails, happily howling along with him at the moon. The joy ended abruptly in the morning when he painfully transformed back, leaving him retching. 

Remus knelt next to him as he lay broken on the ground, feeling his forehead and frowning. “It’s not supposed to be this painful,” he murmured worriedly, causing Jack to crowd over him as well. “What do you think is the problem?”

Jack screwed his face up in concentration. “I’m not sure. He’s a Pureblood, yeah?”

Remus nodded. “Malfoy and Black.”

“Ah,” Jack said in realization. “The Black family has dormant vampire blood. Must be fighting the wolf.”

“Great,” Draco managed. “Fantastic.” Draco was quickly learning that nothing could ever be easy for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. Currently pursuing a PhD and I write little bits each day when I get a moment. This is a shorter chapter but I needed it to get Draco to the safehouse. More to come soon!

Draco couldn’t shake his fever for about a week after his first full moon. His body was sore from the transformation – his arm never felt more ready to be severed from his body. He was put back up in his rooms where a little worse for wear Remus and Jack took care of him. Once again, Draco felt guilty for treating the professor poorly during his time at Hogwarts. Lupin was much too kind to someone who tried to make his life miserable, and it made Draco feel ashamed and angry all at once. “I don’t deserve this – stop making me feel guilty, already!” he burst out about midweek to a patient Remus checking his vitals. 

“Seer used to martyr himself like that,” Remus mused, completely unfazed. “You two might be fourth cousins but the similarities are daunting sometimes.” He handed Draco a violet potion, brushing the blonde's hair back once he took it from him in an almost fatherly way. It made Draco's chest ache with more guilt. “Drink this, it’ll help your fever.” 

Draco downed it begrudgingly, side eyeing the werewolf all the while. “I’m not a martyr,” he said stubbornly. 

Remus let out a laugh as he fluffed the ex-Malfoy’s pillows. “I’m going to rest a while. I’m not exactly tip-top shape myself. I’ll wake if you yell for me though.” 

He left Draco then, allowing him to wallow in his own misery. How did he get so far in his life being so self-righteous and horrible? He felt ill thinking about the way he just moved through the world, not really showing interest or understanding to anyone around him. And yet here he was, being cared for as if he had never been terrible to Potter and his friends – it seemed to be forgotten. Draco vowed to not burden Remus, or anyone for that matter, anymore. While he was mulling about in self pity, his ears picked up a conversation just beyond the door. Still not used to his new super hearing, Draco could not tune the voices out. It was Remus and Jack. They were talking about him. 

“His fever will not break. I’m very worried,” Remus’s voice sounded stressed. 

“He’ll be alright, Rem,” Jack soothed. “But he’s going to have to take really good care of himself between moons. He needs to eat properly, keep up his strength. He won’t survive otherwise. He needs to outfight his genetics.” 

“Easier said than done. He’s convinced he was put on the planet to be a burden at this point. Doom spiraling a la Black family.” 

Jack laughed. Draco scowled. The Blacks did not doom spiral. Though, he supposed his mother could be a bit self loathing at times. And he’s heard stories about Aunt Walburga throwing quite a fit or two. But this was different, Draco posited to himself as his eyelids grew heavy, despite his efforts to keep listening. Lupin had drugged him, he realized as he let out a yawn. “He’ll be fine, Remus. Get some rest,” is all the blonde heard before succumbing to the potion. 

When he next awoke he surprisingly felt better. The fever had broken and he finally felt grounded enough to venture a walk into the living room, much to the surprise of his former professor. "You're moving!" He exclaimed happily. 

"It's as if you were already penning my eulogy, professor," Draco bit back sarcastically. 

Remus grinned wryly at the young Malfoy. "I must admit, I was getting a bit nervous. Let me fetch you some tea." Draco curled up on the sofa where Remus was sat, wincing as he tested his arm out. Not so bad, he thought. 

When Remus returned Draco had already fallen back asleep. "No you don't," laughed Remus as he gently shook the former Heir. 

Draco jumped at the sensation. "What did I miss?" He said blearily, earning another laugh. 

"You'll sleep your day away if I let you go back to bed. Here." Remus passed Draco a mug, who took it gratefully. 

"Thank you." 

The two sat in comfortable silence together for awhile as Draco sipped his tea slowly. He was beginning to really get used to having Remus around and it made him nervous. He didn't want to become to attached to any adult figure – he already missed his mother more than words could say. The thought of Narcissa made his heart clench – he wondered if she was alright. Finally, Remus said, "I spoke to Fenrir this morning about your condition." 

"You mean my genes trying to murder me?" Draco responded humorously, staring into his mug. 

Remus winced. "In a way, yes, I suppose. The reason you have been so sick is because of the vampire blood that all Blacks carry. While we all get a touch ill before and after a full moon, your ailments have been very severe – if it goes on like this, one bad month can mean irreversible health problems." 

"Like death? You don't have to tip toe around it, I'm nearly sixteen." 

"You're still a child," Remus chided and then softened. "But yes, you can very well die if it gets too severe. Genetic complications like this have been known to kill those afflicted after too many transformations. Lucky for you, however, we aren't living in the dark ages and we have the capacity to protect you. Wolfsbane will keep your wolf from killing you if you stay on it," Remus began to explain, causing Draco to stand up abruptly. 

"No," he exclaimed. 

"What do you mean no?" 

"I mean no. Fenrir told me that Wolfsbane potion poisons me. Why would he want me to suddenly take it? I'm not poisoning my wolf – that's like turning on myself." 

"Why did that man put this in your head?" Remus agonized, mostly to himself. "You're not poisoning your wolf. It makes it easier to ignore base instincts when you transform – the wolf is still all there, it just makes sure you're all there with him. Besides, this will lessen the ill feelings before and after transforming and most likely save your life. There's not much to debate here, Draco." 

"Well maybe I don't want saving!" Draco burst out. His eyes widened at the realization of what he said and he bolted back to his room, slamming the door behind him. Remus was right behind him, banging loudly on the door as Draco covered his head with a pillow. "Go away! I didn't mean it! I was just mad!" 

Still the knocking persisted. "I'm giving you until the count of ten and then I'm coming in," Remus threatened. Draco ignored him. "One...Two...Draco this isn't funny! Three...Four..." Draco turned towards the door. This was all so dramatic. He couldn't make himself get up. "Five...Six...Draco I'm completely serious! Privacy does not trump mental health! Seven...Eight...Nine...Come on Draco." Draco waved his hand at the door in frustration and whipped away from it, curling up into a ball. 

The door creaked open at Draco's wave, just as Remus was reaching ten. Remus was surprised to see Draco still lying there, wand nowhere to be found. "Well that was pretty impressive wandless magic," he claimed, sitting on the edge of Draco's bed. 

"You were aggravating me," Draco grumbled. "That's what happens. I'm a grade A Matilda." 

"Or Carrie," Remus muttered to himself. "Do you want to actually talk this through with me or are we going to have malaise all the way to the safe house?" 

Draco sat up at this. "We're leaving?" 

Remus gave him a sideways glance. "Well I thought we could move you tomorrow, seeing as you're well enough to travel, but you didn't seem to want to let me finish our conversation." 

The blonde looked down, heat rising to his cheeks. "I regretted my words." 

"Did you regret the words or that they came out?" At Draco's non-answer, Remus heaved a sigh. "It will get better, Draco." 

"My stupid genes don't seem to agree with you, sir," Draco bit back. 

"If you just take the Wolfsbane, life will be much better for you. It won't completely remove the symptoms but it will make it manageable. Everyone hurts and ails the first few transformations – we just need to be particularly careful with you." 

Draco was fiddling with his blanket as he listened to the former professor. "I don't want to go through that pain again," he mumbled, feeling very small. "Maybe next time, I won't survive long enough to feel that pain." He hated being pitied and he could smell it rolling off of Remus. It was all too much. He felt the older wolf place his hand on Draco's shoulder comfortingly, reminding him of his mother again. He blinked back the tears threatening to fall – now was not the time. 

"I know that it's painful. Having a crippling fever beforehand isn't great either. The Wolfsbane will help with that. It's not poisoning yourself, despite what my adoptive father likes to believe. It will give you relief. Your father has already provided more than enough funds for it from what I've heard. You won't have to worry about anything – just normal teenager stuff." 

"And growing fangs once a month," Draco replied sarcastically, but he was already feeling better. "Thanks, professor." 

"You can call me Remus, you know," Remus corrected, but there was a grin on his face, happy to have talked Draco off the ledge. "At any rate, it seems as though your dramatic antics will balance out your roommate's: hopefully you won't rip each other's heads off." 

"Who is my roommate? Weasley?" Draco asked. 

"Not quite." 

When they arrived at the safe house the next morning, Draco would see why Remus was walking on eggshells about who he was to stay with. "The safe house is Grimmauld, really?" Draco asked in disbelief as he read the address off of a bit of parchment just in front of the London abode. 

"You know of it?" Remus replied, eyebrows shooting into his hairline. 

Draco nodded. "I've been here only once before – when Aunt Walburga was dying. Not a lot of family was out of Azkaban to take care of her; Mum volunteered. I think I was five." 

Remus hummed in response. "Well the Order uses it now, a gift from Harry, really. Let's go in, shall we?" 

As they approached the door, Draco's face was scrunched in confusion. "How could Potter gift the house to the Order? Not exactly related is he?" 

"Sirius was Harry's godfather," Remus responded, voice tight. "And James did have Black blood, even if he was very far removed from the Lord's line. Sirius let the Order use it, Harry let it continue." Remus pushed open the double doors to a screeching portrait and an even louder Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Miss the colony yet?" Remus joked, looking at Draco's surprised face. 

"What in Merlin's name..." Draco wondered, following the voices to the kitchen. Harry was standing on the opposite side of the kitchen, red in the face from bellowing, his hair wet with sweat. Nearer to Draco was Hermione and Ron. Hermione looked like she was about to cry and Ron looked to be made of pure rage. 

"We're just worried about you, mate!" Ron yelled angrily. "If you would just stop blowing up at every turn..." 

"Worry about yourself, Ron!" Harry screamed back, eyes flashing. "I don't need your pity and I don't need any 'mental health checkups', Hermione. I'm fine." 

"Well you definitely seem it, Potter," Draco butted in, feeling uncomfortable that the golden trio of all people were at odds. Harry jumped at Draco's voice and Hermione and Ron whipped around to face him fully. Draco raised an eyebrow at their glares. "Hello, friends." 

"Draco, now's not the time," Remus warned but Draco dismissed him with a hand. 

"What is he doing here?" Ron ground out, aiming his glare at Remus. 

"Draco requested asylum and it was granted by Dumbledore." Ron scoffed in disbelief, Hermione's eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Harry just looked on, silent for once. "You are to treat him, and each other, with the respect that young wizards should be exhibiting, and cease this nonsense." 

"When mermaids begin to live on land is when I respect that ferret-faced..." 

"Enough." Ron was cut off and he swallowed uncomfortably. "You are all probably driving Molly spare with the endless bickering. If Harry wants to be alone, give him space." Harry grinned triumphantly at that. "And if Ron and Hermione want to ask how you are, don't respond with insults and anger. They just care about you. Be happy for who you have." 

Harry deflated a little at this. "Draco deserves his chance at life without a Dark Lord just as much as you do. You will get along. Now eat your breakfast and give it a rest." 

At that, Remus grabbed a piece of toast off the table and sat down, ignoring the teens. Draco looked around at the shocked faces and shrugged, joining Remus at the table. Harry,  
Ron, and Hermione looked at each other in disbelief. Ron grumbled about the unbelievability of it all and left the kitchen, Hermione following to see if he was alright. Harry chose to seat himself next to Remus, opposite Draco, and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. 

"Sorry about that," he murmured to Remus, eyes firmly rested on the table in front of him. 

Remus rested his hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "It's alright Harry. Care to elaborate what the fight was about?" 

Harry glanced at Draco quickly and back down at his plate. Draco frowned in confusion. Wasn't the Golden Boy supposed to be brazen at all times? Why was he coming off so small and sad? "Just the usual nonsense," Harry replied. The black haired wonder let out a heavy sigh. "I just can't control myself much anymore. I'm losing my mind stuck in here." 

Remus grimaced in response. "We can go shopping for your things once your school letter arrives." 

Harry snorted. "Not without an entire guard of Aurors. It's like the Ministry believes me suddenly or something," he said, filled with sarcasm. 

"I'd want a guard if I were you," Draco chances. Harry's head whipped up to meet his eyes. The fierceness in his green eyes was almost too much for Draco to bare. He raised his hands in defense. "I'm just saying, if there was a Dark Lord out to get me..." 

Harry stood abruptly as Remus gave Draco a warning glare. "Well good thing he isn't then, isn't it?" He huffed. "I'm sorry that you found life at the Manor to be too droll for you to deal with, but I'm here facing real problems and issues so don't think I want to sit here and listen to your unsolicited advice about what I should and shouldn't do. A bad day for you is waking up with messed up hair so excuse me if I don't feel like hearing any opinion about the shit I have to deal with." 

"Harry," Remus warned. 

"It's alright," Draco interrupted, standing as well. "You're so high and mighty, Potter, acting as though the world revolves around you. You want to know what my worst day is? Getting bitten by a werewolf after being intercepted by your own father so he doesn't take on his own punishment from not getting some stupid mission accomplished for an egomaniac who has turned my home upside down for the better part of a year. My worst day is being kicked out of said house and disowned on paper so the Malfoy line doesn't have dirty blood. My worst day is watching someone powerful and respectable like my father turn on his own family to please some snake faced pile of dragon dung like he's some kind of puppet. Take a fucking look around: you are not the only one hurting from the war. We are all losing people – we are all making sacrifices. Stop acting as if the world is black and white and behaving like some sacrificial lamb who has no choice. No wonder your friends are so upset with you." Harry was in a stunned silence by Draco's outburst. His mouth was gaping like a fish and Draco vowed to savor a moment where Harry was actually silent for once. 

After what seemed like an eternity of quiet, Harry sat back down, head in his hands. "I just got told off by Malfoy, and he's right," he mumbled to himself. He looked at Remus, eyes full of sorrow. "I'm sorry I keep ruining everything. I'm not so hungry anymore." And with that he disappeared upstairs. 

Draco sat back down slowly, suddenly feeling foolish. "Why did I just disclose that much information to Potter of all people?" He agonized. "Bloody fool can't keep his mouth shut." 

Remus let out a shocked laugh. "Teenagers," he mused. "Why don't you go apologize to him?" 

"For what? For giving him a dose of reality?" Draco scoffed. "No thanks." 

"No," Remus replied. "For dumping the emotional baggage you've been holding in for a month on him. Besides, the two of you are roommates and I don't need you fighting all day long." 

Draco sputtered. "Roommates with him?" 

"I'm sure he's just as thrilled. Go on, it's on the topmost landing all the way down the hall. It has Sirius's name on the door." 

"Great." 

Draco rolled his trunk up the stairs, thankful he didn't run into anyone else on his way to his room. Suddenly he was missing his lush digs at the werewolf colony. He wondered if it was too late to try and go back, considering they were less savage than Potter was being at the moment. When he reached the room with his late cousin's name on it, he felt his heart go to his knees. He really didn't want another explosion on his hands. He swallowed down his nerve and knocked. When nobody answered, Draco spoke up. "Potter, it's me. I just wanted to put my things in here. Can I come in?" The door swung open to Draco's relief and he entered, noticing Harry was sitting stone-faced on his bed, wand nowhere to be found. "Cool trick," he chanced as he rolled his trunk to the other side of the room where a bed awaited him. "I can do that too when I'm brooding." 

"I'm not brooding," Harry growled lowly, to which Draco answered with a laugh. "Okay, maybe a little." 

Draco refrained from tutting sarcastically while he busied himself with putting his clothing into an empty wardrobe. “Sorry for dumping all of that on you before. It wasn't fair,” he managed to say. His back was to Harry but he could feel the golden boy's eyes on him. "What?" 

"It's just I never heard you apologize before. Usually too proud for that," Harry mused. 

Draco turned to look at him, eyebrow raised. "I only apologize when I've done something wrong. How have I wronged you, Potter?" 

Harry snorted in response. "Oh I dunno, Malfoy. The entirety of our school years together? The countless times you made fun of my friends and I? When you tried to get Hagrid fired? Any of this ringing a bell?" 

"That's different," Draco said in defense. 

"How?" 

"I wasn't the one who declined friendship. That was all you." Draco laid down on his bed, missing the werewolf colony more than anything at the moment. He closed his eyes. 

Harry's silence was once again astounding to him. From being so fiery just minutes beforehand to quiet contemplation, Draco was beginning to worry for the Boy Who Lived's sanity. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry for what happened to you. Nobody deserves to be turned like that."  
Draco opened his eyes to stare blankly at the ceiling. "I'm still getting used to it. Professor Lupin has been helping me."  
"I'm glad. You shouldn't have to deal with that alone." 

Draco hummed in response. "I'm sorry about your godfather. My aunt hates him so he must have been a decent human being." 

Harry laughed in response. It was a choked sort of laugh, like he hadn't made the sound in awhile. It made Draco feel weird. "Thank you," Harry replied quietly. "I'm still getting used to it." 

"Couldn't tell with your display earlier," Draco joked, feeling stranger by the second. 

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his eyes shut in frustration. "They're just always on me. They want me to go back to normal. I don't feel normal, why should I have to make nice for the sake of their feelings?" He agonized. 

"Ah," the blonde responded, "now you're speaking Slytherin." Harry's eyes snapped open and they settled on Draco with a glare. He raised his hands in defense. "I'm not saying that's a bad thing, Potter. Snake in residence here, remember? It's okay to be selfish with your feelings sometime. You just lost someone – really lost someone. It's okay to not be okay. Nobody should force you into not owning that." Harry's glare turned into something more of confusion. Draco realized he just genuinely gave Saint Potter advice and shook his head to snap out of it. "I'm going to go eat before this gets any weirder," he said, leaving the room and the puzzled Boy Who Lived behind.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been awhile - I have a longer chapter to make up for it!

Draco’s first week at Grimmauld Place was decidedly lonely. Everyone tended to give him a wide berth in the vast house, especially as the rumors of his motives behind wanting asylum swirled and transformed dramatically from person to person. He heard Weasley and Granger conspiring in the corner one day about how bright his eyes seemed to be, and attempted to attribute it to being under some sort of Imperius variation. Draco resisted outing himself again – Granger was too nosy for her own good and would put two and two together soon enough. If anything, his depleting health from the looming full moon would be a dead giveaway when the time came.  

Remus had been trying to overcorrect everyone else’s disposition towards him by practically smothering him. If Draco was in the living room by himself reading, Remus would miraculously find him and sit near him. If he was eating alone after everyone had finished, Remus would join him. It was as though his slip up after his first full moon was enough for Remus to put him on suicide watch. It was becoming mildly annoying to smell the pity day in and day out, but he had to admit that it was nice to see that he wasn’t completely abandoned in this new life situation.  

What was even more disconcerting was Potter’s behavior towards him. After his ridiculous meltdown on the first day, the golden boy had been particularly quiet and withdrawn. Weasley and Granger would attempt to coax Harry into speaking to them and he would just get up and leave the room, befuddling his friends in the process. He, too, began eating at odd hours with Draco and Remus. His wolf seemed to be happy to have Remus around – Draco assumed the first full moon was instrumental in creating a pack mentality with the older wizard, not to mention the very paternal behavior Remus had been exhibiting towards him as of late.  

A late afternoon found the unlikely trio in the dining room, Remus making light conversation with the two. “Have you been meditating, Draco?” he asked, to which Draco responded with a glare. “Didn’t know that was a touchy subject?” Remus offered in defense.  

“I think it would be obvious if I wasn’t with the moon so close, don’t you think?” Draco responded curtly.  

“Someone slept on the wrong side of the bed,” Harry quipped, biting into a biscuit Molly had made.  

“I don’t recall me being the one who’s been throwing tantrums when the wind blows the wrong way,” Draco bit back. Remus aimed a glare his way, as if to tell him to watch himself, lest they witness another Potter meltdown.  

But nothing happened. Harry’s eyebrow quirked in amusement. “Touché, wolf boy.” 

Draco snorted in response, the tension obviously eased. “Are we going back to the colony for the full?” he asked, reaching for a chocolate covered scone. Harry couldn’t help but parallel Remus and Draco’s love for chocolate. Maybe it was a wolf thing. 

“Well that depends,” Remus countered, “have you been taking your Wolfsbane?” 

Draco scoffed. “Professor, I’m appalled that you would think that I am unable to follow basic instruction. Of course I’ve been taking it.” And he had been. That vile tasting potion had been a regular part of his dinners for the past couple of days. Apparently flavouring the potion would remove its properties, something Draco was resentful of. Maybe he’d foray into potioneering in order to create a better tasting brew.  

“Considering last week I wasn’t so sure,” Remus responded. “If you’re on Wolfsbane there is no need to return for the moon. We can relax in the attic instead.” 

“ _Great,”_ Draco replied sarcastically, wishing he had lied about taking care of himself.  

The rest of the day was muddled with the cloud of being trapped in the attic hanging over his head. He sat in the corner of the living room for most of the day, trying to avoid picking up on the conversations around him. People tended to give him a wide berth, but not wide enough to keep them out of the largest area in the house. The Weasleys sent him glares whenever he caught their eyes – well, aside from Molly, who looked at Draco as if he were an injured lamb. He supposed everyone knew of his condition by now, at least the adults anyway. Molly was always whispering about “poor thing” and “must be horrible being all alone,” making Draco want to curl into a ball and disappear. He wasn’t all alone, was he? His mother was still present, albeit from afar. His heart ached for her terribly.  

 He was beginning to feel the effects of the moon, battling waves of nausea every so often, his face becoming paler and under eye circles becoming deeper by the day. This ill feeling made him more and more homesick for his mother. This led Draco to the tapestry room a few days later. There was a  similar set up in the Manor, depicting the Malfoy lineage. He had spent countless hours memorizing every branch and nuance of the Malfoy family, knowing which relatives were in good or bad standing, at what level, and the reasoning behind it. He couldn’t imagine what future Malfoys would learn about himself – if they learned of him at all.  

The Black family tapestry went deeper and was larger than the Malfoy tree. Draco had many lessons on his Black heritage, but was not as intimately familiar with the various shades of character that each member possessed. He was not the Heir – it was not his responsibility. Though, he supposed, he was no longer an Heir of anything. He gripped his Malfoy ring in between his fingers, running over the smooth emerald at the center. Why hadn’t it burned up? he wondered. He searched for his name and face on the vast tapestry, finding it attached to both of his parents. The branch connecting Draco to his father was blackened, but it was not severed. He wondered what that meant. If he were completely disowned, there would be no branch. He had never heard of or seen a blackened branch before. He glanced at the space where Sirius’s name was located. It, too, held a blackened branch. Looking back at his place, he noticed his last name was still on the tapestry. He scrunched his face in confusion. “How is this possible?” 

“Looks like you’ve only been disowned in name.” Draco jumped in surprise and whipped around. It was a Weasley – not one he was familiar with. This one was impossibly too cool to be associated with the rest of his family – he had long hair tucked into a low ponytail and was so tan it was impossible to tell where his freckles were. A single fang earring dangled from his left ear. “I’m Bill,” he offered. Right, Draco realized, the Weasley Heir.  

“Draco,” he offered carefully in response. No sense being impolite in the belly of the beast. “How can you tell it’s only in name? I’ve never seen this before.” Bill stepped up next to him for a closer examination. He smelled like an old library.  

“That makes sense. It’s a pretty rare occurrence for Ancient and Noble Houses like yours. I’m not surprised your lessons didn’t cover it. When someone only disowns in name it is mostly to save face. To truly disown a family member there needs to be more feeling. It needs to invoke the House magic that can remove you. This just puts you in bad standing with the family.” 

Draco frowned. “I think the feeling was there for Father. I’m not sure he ever felt much for me emotionally - at least not enough to block a disownment.” 

“Ah,” Bill replied with a grin, “but you’re an Heir. Disowning an Heir requires a direct violation of the House’s pillars of character. You’re a bit of a snot from what my brother has said, but I doubt you could violate pillars like justice, loyalty, and intelligence that the Malfoy family derives from.” 

Draco chose to ignore the glib insult, actually wanting to learn something new about Pureblood lines. “But I’m not loyal. I defected.” 

“You defected from Voldemort, not the Malfoys. Your Father may be the Lord but that does not mean that he can be a tyrant, changing the traditions the line has stood for for centuries. Each family is inherently neutral – choosing a side does not make you a defector.” Bill pointed at Sirius’s name. “He also chose a side. No matter how much his mother desired to remove him from the Black name, she could not. The Black Family stands on similar pillars as the Malfoys: justice, civility, and, surprisingly considering how we’ve seen them in recent years, friendship and lovingness.” 

“I never knew that,” Draco mused.  

“I doubt your parents and tutors ever thought you would need to. We have a lot of informal disownments in my family. Most of it has to do with being unable to muster the emotional force to disown. We are vastly loyal.” 

“No wonder you’re all Gryffindors.”  

Bill snorted. “Anyway, don’t waste away staring down tapestries, that’s the most mind numbing thing I can think of. I’m here because Remus asked me to check out how you’re doing.” 

Draco was suddenly suspicious. He turned to Bill with glaring eyes. “Why would you need to check on how I’m doing?” 

“I’m a curse breaker for Gringotts. Remus told me your vampire genetics are messing with your health. You look a bit peaky to be honest.” 

“I’m not cursed…I’m just different now,” Draco replied defensively. "Werewolves always get ill from the moon." 

Bill threw his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying you’re cursed. I also don’t like the harmful rhetoric surrounding werewolf talk. I’m just saying as a curse breaker, I specialize in cases like yours. Now I work in ancient tombs in Egypt, but I did do many clinical hours in the curse damage unit at St. Mungo’s during my studies, _and_ I spent some time there before Gringotts as well. I might have some valuable information for you." Bill felt Draco's head and tsked. "And let's not kid ourselves about how ill you've been in correlation with how ill other werewolves feel. You look ready to fall over and the moon is four days away." 

Draco sighed. "Why does Professor Lupin have to meddle so much?" He agonized. "Fine, Weasley. Do your worst." 

"Great!" Bill grinned, making Draco weak in the knees. He forced himself to get a grip – he did _not_ find a Weasley of all people attractive. His time with so many lions must be driving him to insanity. "Let me just grab Remus and we can begin." 

Draco waited patiently while Bill went on the hunt for his packmate. Everything had to be so dramatic, didn't it? His father couldn't just be a crooked politician, he had to invite pure evil into his home. Draco couldn't just have asylum, he had to become a monster to escape one, and not even peacefully. His body was betraying him – maybe he would die before the war ended anyway. And now a Weasley was going to help him? He never wanted help from anyone. Draco felt weak and useless.  

Remus and Bill found Draco in the same spot where Bill had left him, head in his hands and curled up on a chair by the fireplace. Remus shut the door and walked over to kneel beside him. "Are you feeling sick?" He asked, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco wished he'd be less fatherly toward him – it was driving him spare with cognitive dissonance.  

"M'fine," he mumbled in response, pulling his face out of his hands. Draco tried to shake himself from his own doom spiraling. "You've pushed a Weasley on me with no warning, I see." 

Remus frowned. "The Wolfsbane isn't working as well as I wanted it to. Bill did a lot of his schooling studying this type of problem. I thought he could help." 

"Whatever," Draco sighed, suddenly very tired with it all. "Let's just get this over with." 

Bill then began running a multitude of diagnostic spells on Draco, muttering to himself all the while. After what seemed like hours of tingling sensations and Remus staring at him worriedly, Bill was done. "Alright, Draco. I think I've gotten to the root of it." 

"Can't wait for this one," Draco replied sarcastically.  

"Is he alright?" Remus asked, shooting a glare his way.  

Bill grimaced. "It's a little complicated," he explained, to which Draco rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, ready for the worst. "The Wolfsbane has been working sort of like a quick fix. Draco is still feeling ill, though perhaps not as badly as he was his first moon. What's concerning is that he is already feeling so ill four days out, whereas a 'normal' wolf usually gets sick about two days prior to transforming. The werewolf genes he has been gifted are seeing the lesser vampire genetics as a threat to the body. The wolf is attacking his immune system because of it." Remus began to frown again, a crease was beginning to develop in his forehead. "The Wolfsbane pushes the wolf back a little, but your luck is going to run out before long. Even with the potion, Draco needs to continually take care of himself – one ill-timed cold could become dire."  

Draco folded into himself at this, feeling small and alone suddenly. He was going to die around strangers and family enemies, he realized. What had he done? What had his father done to him? "I think we can fix it though." Bill smiled and gripped Draco's arm reassuringly. Draco looked up in surprise. "I've actually worked on a similar case before. If we make the vampire gene a little stronger, your body will stop attacking itself." 

Draco stood at this, feeling immediately dizzy. "No way. Nope. I'm not getting weirder than this. Thanks, I'll risk it with the Wolfsbane." He made to leave but he swayed in his spot. Remus was by his side almost immediately, gingerly sitting him back down.  

"Draco, you need to hear this out. You can't just give up." 

"I'm not doing this!" He yelled. At that moment, Harry opened the door, a look of surprise on his face when he saw everyone. _Great_ , Draco thought, _the savior come to poke his nose in none of his business._  

"I'm sorry, didn't realize anyone was in here," Harry said. He looked at Draco. "You look ready to pass out, Malfoy." 

"Worry about yourself, Potter," Draco spat, easily falling into schoolyard rivalries.  

Instead of leaving, Harry stepped fully into the room, observing the situation. "If you're ailing with a fever all night it becomes my problem to worry about," he quipped, stepping closer. Draco really wanted him to leave.  

"Wotcher, Harry," Bill said, shaking Harry's hand.  

"Hi Bill. What are you doing to Draco?" 

"Well that's Draco's business isn't it?" 

"He knows," Draco said, "don't bother trying to save face." Draco looked at Harry with disdain. "Bill is trying to make me weirder." Why was he bringing Potter into this? His familiarity was strangely calming to him, he supposed. He was less ready to bolt out of the room now at any rate. 

Harry snorted. "Impossible." 

Remus eyed the two teenagers suspiciously. He knew they were sharing a room but to see the two interact like the Marauders used to all the while ignoring Ron and Hermione was more than odd. It seemed as though Harry and Draco screaming at one another leveled their hatred for one another out. Remus wasn't sure how he felt about that.  

"This isn't going to make you 'weirder'," Bill explained. "It will hardly affect you at all. It will balance you." 

"So let me get this straight," Draco cut Bill off. "First I have to poison myself with Wolfsbane potion. The potion is barely working and now I get to be some weird vampire/werewolf hybrid so I don't suddenly die off? Is there even a point to live by then? What kind of life do I get to lead being a total monster like that?" 

"You aren't going to be a vampire, Draco. We're just going to up the genetics a little. You wouldn't even let me explain without dramatically trying to flee." 

"He does that," Remus said, a wry smile tugging at his lips.  

"I think it would be cool," Harry joked. "Blood sucking werewolf – it's like a bad horror film." 

"Thanks, Potter," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "As always your presence is just oh so calming and comforting." But he did feel a little better to hear Potter joke like that – it made him feel a little more normal. He really was going insane. He looked at Bill. "If you balance me out with vampire venom or whatever it is you have up your sleeve am I going to start craving blood? I really don't need to add neck sniffer to my list of nicknames." 

"What other nicknames are on that list, I wonder," Harry said. "Snake Prince? Dungeon Dragon?" 

Draco whacked Harry in the arm. "It's going to be Potter Pulverizer in a second." 

Bill interrupted the two. "Enough," he said, though there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. "You probably won't crave blood, Draco. At most you might take your meat a little rarer, though I suppose you already do." Draco glared in response. "Your appearance might shift a little but you won't be an actual vampire. You would need to be drained of your blood. Mostly you'll just be able to survive the moon, which is the important thing here. It's pretty standard at St. Mungo's with cases like yours – it happens more often than you'd think." 

That wasn't as drastic as Draco imagined. His appearance was already a little different, being a little paler wasn't that detrimental. "Are we going to do this today?" 

Bill grimaced. "I don't think so. You're pretty sick. I'm afraid it won't take with the wolf so strong. After you transform we'll do it. Make sure you get lots of rest before hand. I'd put you on bed rest now, honestly." 

Before Draco could protest, Remus stepped in. "I think that's a great idea. Harry, would you help him to your room? I'll be up later to check on you." 

"You all are fussing for nothing," Draco grumbled, making his way to the door and swatting Potter's offered arm away. "I'm not going to drop dead, Potter, relax."  

"Sorry, Malfoy. I forget you're a git sometimes." 

"Behave," Remus warned.  

"Yeah, yeah," Draco replied, slipping out the door.  

Harry insisted on following Draco to their room, despite Draco's assertions that he was not made of glass. Once he was safely in bed he expected Harry to leave. Instead, he also decided to rest. "Don't you have friends to yell at, Potter?" Draco drawled.  

"Not really," Harry responded. "I was looking to be alone before I walked in on all of the drama." 

"Well go be alone somewhere else."  

"I would but I think Remus would kill me if something happened to you and I wasn't around. He's very fond of you lately." 

"Don't remind me." 

"It seems like the two of you get on." 

"It's bloody confusing and I'm too tired to go into detail, nor do you deserve the details." 

"Fine, fine. Don't cut my head off, Malfoy." 

Draco scrunched his face up at the name, remembering the conversation he had with Bill just hours ago. He wished he could just disappear.  

The next morning Draco was feeling even worse if it were possible. He curled himself into a ball early on and hadn't moved all morning. Nobody bothered him until about midday, probably thinking he was just trying to sleep in before school resumed. He felt a hand on his forehead and blearily opened his eyes to see Remus unsurprisingly, looking very concerned. "He's been like this all morning," he heard from somewhere in the room- it was Potter. Of course. He closed his eyes again, too weak to protest.  

"I brought you some water. You need to drink," said Remus. He felt a cool glass press to his lips and he drank a little.  

"Thanks," he rasped out. "I'm just a little tired today." 

"Open your eyes for me?" Remus requested. Draco obliged, looking into the professor's amber eyes. Remus frowned. "Your eye color is very dull and dark today." He felt his head again. "Your fever is back too. This shouldn't be this way with the Wolfsbane. Your magical core must be very strong to be fighting the potion this hard. Here." He handed Draco a familiar vial. Fever reducer potion. He took it, feeling a bit better. His headache had receded some.  

"Thank you," he muttered. "Can I go back to sleep now?" 

"Yes. I'm going to bring you up some soup later, is that alright?" 

Draco nodded, closing his eyes once more, succumbing to his weariness. When he next woke he was feeling a bit better and decided he could sit up a little. The fever potion must have done its job well. He saw Harry sitting in an armchair by his bed, quietly reading. "Have you been here all day?" He asked in disbelief.  

Harry jumped, noticing Draco had woken up. "Don't worry about it," he offered in reply. "You look like you got some colour back. That's good. Are you feeling better?" 

"Stop being so nice to me," Draco bit back. He felt foolish immediately after when he saw Harry recoil a little. "Sorry, it's just messing with my head." 

Harry grimaced in response. "I can understand that. Sorry – it's just that you don't expect me to be sunshine and daisies all the time – it's been easier to be around you than with my friends." 

"Well as long as you're using me for personal comfort, I guess that's fine." Harry laughed in response. It sounded like music. Draco mentally shook himself. It was like he was developing Stockholm's Syndrome or something. "What are you reading?" 

Harry glanced down at his book. "The Odyssey. It was next to Sirius's bed when I got here." Draco could sense that it was a sensitive subject and didn't want to pry further.  

"Better than the Illiad I suppose," he replied.  

Harry looked at him in surprise, green eyes bright with disbelief. "I wouldn't peg you as being into Muggle literature." 

"Those are classics, Potter. Besides, for all we know, Homer was a wizard. How else would he know about sirens and giants?" 

"Lots of Muggles know about sirens and giants, Malfoy." 

"Because of Homer, obviously." 

Harry sighed. "Sure. Are you hungry?" Draco's stomach growled in response. I'll take that as a yes. I'll go get you something." 

Harry left Draco alone then. Draco reached for his wand and cast a quick _Tempus._ It was nearly 5 PM. He had really slept the day away. To be fair, there wasn't much else he could do with the eldest Weasley son prescribing him bed rest while he waited out the moon. Nevertheless, his mother would never let him sleep all day. He wondered if Severus could pass her a message without getting caught. Where was he lately, anyway? 

Harry came back with the soup that Remus had promised earlier. It was a nice chicken soup with plenty of vegetables. Draco took one look and his stomach began to growl viciously. He took the bowl from Potter's hands. "Thank you. You didn't have to do that." 

Harry shrugged in response, retaking his seat and cracking open his book again. "Remus will be in to check on you, he said."  

"Great," Draco replied sarcastically in between enthusiastic bites. "Just what I need: more mother henning." 

"It was going to be Mrs. Weasley but Remus thought you wouldn't react too kindly." 

"I have nothing against Mrs. Weasley. She's a great cook." 

"You seem to be allergic to red hair, then." 

Draco glared at Harry but was trying not to smile. He supposed he was rather rude to the Weasley family. His father had always instilled an annoyance for them for some reason: maybe there was some hidden feud he didn't know about. "You seem to have developed the same allergy as of late." 

Harry sighed slowly in response. It was awhile before he decided to speak; it looked as if he was struggling not to react. He had a sad frown on his face. "It's just been different lately," he explained. "I don't like talking much anymore. Hermione wants me to own my feelings. Ron wants me to joke around again. I'm so angry with Dumbledore for giving me an incompetent Occlumency teacher who hated me. It was all my fault that anyone got hurt or worse." He sighed again. Draco felt badly for him, which was odd considering his feelings about the Golden Boy over the past few years. "I'm just tired of doing the Boy Who Lived thing and they come with the title. They remind me of my responsibility and my shortcomings. I can't help but see red when they try to interact with me." 

"So you choose to coddle me?" 

"You have said I have a savior complex, Malfoy." And with that, Harry returned to his book.  

So much self disclosure at once was making Draco's head spin. Soon, though, Remus came to see him. "You're looking much better," he noted, feeling his head. "The fever has tapered off. Excellent." 

"For now," Draco replied. "I have a feeling it will be back." 

"You're probably right but I'm just so glad to see you sitting up. Oh, I almost forgot." Remus pulled out a piece of parchment from his robes. "Severus stopped by while you were sleeping. He made me swear that this would get to you. He had to leave quickly." He handed the parchment over. "I checked it for tampering – it seems clean." 

Draco turned over the folded parchment in his hands. His name was on it. His breath hitched. "Mother," he whispered to himself. He looked up at Remus. "Thank you for ensuring its delivery. I wish Severus was here for me to send a note back." 

Remus frowned. "It might gain suspicion, but I'm sure he could try. At least to let her know that you're okay." 

Draco smiled in response and looked back down at the letter. Remus took his soup bowl and left, muttering something about giving him privacy. He glanced at Potter. He was engrossed in his book – he wasn't sure he noticed Remus come in. He was mumbling to himself in concentration. Draco thought it would be fine to open the letter with Harry in the room if he was so distracted. He traced over the lettering of his name delicately with his fingers. He wondered how she was able to sneak a letter. Curiosity finally won out about the contents and he opened the note.  

_Dearest Draco,_  

_I hope this message finds you well. My heart aches for your terribly but I know you are better away from this dark place. I am so sorry for what happened before you could leave – your father is not in his right mind and I was unable to make him see reason as I was forced away._  

_Severus told me that you are tucked away safely. Please remain that way. Do not seek any former allies out when you return to school – many will wish you ill. I believe it best to keep to your Prefect quarters while you are there, lest anything happen._  

_Please be kind to those who are helping you – I know you are not accustomed to the way of life you are being subjected to and I am aware that you are probably surrounded by those you would not usually call friend. They will protect you if you let them – they are kind people, even if you are not being treated kindly to._  

_Finally_ _, I want you to remember that you are loved, even from afar. One day soon this nightmare will be over and I am looking forward to the moment we can reunite. I do not love you any less for what you are and I am so proud of your courage to seek safety. I know you must be lonely but please remember that you are not alone. I will always be here for you and you will always have the support of the true Black family. Do not be afraid to seek out cousins on your side – they will provide._  

_Love always,_  

_Mum_  

Draco didn't realize the tears that were streaming down his face until he felt himself suddenly enveloped into a warm embrace. It was Potter. Draco didn’t realize he was making any sort of noise that would make Harry aware of his sadness, but soon realized a choked sobbing sound had been coming from him. He hadn't cried once since the summer began – he had only reacted in fear and mild annoyance. He hasn't seen his mother since Christmas – seeing her handwriting and feeling her love for him pushed Draco over the edge. He allowed Harry to hold him as he cried for everything he had lost and everything that was happening to the world. Harry rubbed his back comfortingly as he cried it all out until he was too tired to go on, succumbing to quiet hiccups and shaking slightly. "I have a headache now," he said, trying to break the awkwardness he felt from leaning on an enemy for comfort.  

"I'm not surprised," Harry replied. "Do you want to talk about it?"  

Draco shook his head. "Not really, no." Harry nodded in understanding. "Thank you," Draco chanced.  

Harry raised an eyebrow. "For what?" 

Draco shrugged. "Just thank you. Not many people would comfort the enemy." 

"You're not the enemy, Draco," Harry replied. Draco started at his first name. He looked up at Harry, noticing how bright his eyes were once again. He was looking at Draco in a caring manner and Draco wasn't sure if he could stand it. Harry wiped a remaining tear from his eye, surprising the blond further. "You're just you." 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Thank you for continuing to support this fic! I've been really enjoying writing it and developing it in a way that is a little out there but overall realistic. Full apologies for taking so long to get this chapter out: between grad school and a few family deaths over the summer I have not been in a state to write. The good news is I am already working on Chapter 5 so I am hoping to not keep you hanging like this again. This one is a bit shorter but there was too much happening with what I had so far, so it is getting its own chapter. Thank you for your patience!  
> -Kate

                Draco attempted to avoid Harry’s gaze for the next two days before his second transformation. He felt so vulnerable the night he received his mother’s letter and the memory of Harry holding him made him wish his bed would just swallow him whole in embarrassment. The Malfoy Heir already felt so weak and unwanted in Grimmauld Place and Harry seeing him cry just made it worse.

                Harry, on the other hand, seemed unbothered by the interaction. Though he seemed not to be one who was physically affectionate with his friends, Draco noticed that the orphan in question was not embarrassed or phased by their moment of intimacy. In fact, he just carried on like his normal, very quiet unless enraged, self – bringing Draco food at Remus’s request as he once again found himself bedridden before the moon, this time via a Weasley. It was driving Draco spare.

                “You look like hell,” Harry remarked the morning of the transformation, handing Draco a bowl of soup. “Are you feverish again?”

                Draco looked down at the bowl resting in his lap, willing himself to pick up the spoon. He frowned in frustration – he knew he wouldn’t be able to lift it; the room would not stop spinning long enough for him to focus. He slowly looked up at Harry, already burning with embarrassment. “Remus,” he managed to say, pleading with his eyes.

                Harry matched Draco’s frown, feeling his head. He immediately became alert. “You’re burning up,” he remarked. “Hold on, I’ll grab him for you.” Harry bounded out the door. Draco willed himself not to cry again, choosing to sigh instead. Was this it? Was he even going to make it to his second full moon? What a horrible way to go out, he thought, surrounded by people who don’t even care about you. He wished he could be near his father so he could kick and scream out his frustrations at someone who deserved it.

                Remus was through the door quickly, looking a little rough himself. He felt Draco’s head, his face twisting in concern. “Okay. I’m going to have to put you in stasis again before the transformation,” Remus informed the blond.

                Draco gave a slight nod. “Okay,” he breathed.

                “You’re going to be alright, I promise. We’re going to get you through tonight and Bill is going to take care of you. Don’t give up on me – promise?”

                Draco looked into the concerned eyes of the older werewolf, seeing something in them that he had only seen his mother give off when looking at him. He guessed he wasn’t completely unwanted here. “I promise,” Draco whispered. Remus gave him a tight smile and squeezed his shoulder. The next thing he knew was darkness.

                Draco did not wake during his second full moon, at least he was not aware that he did. It was with heavy lidded eyes that he awoke the following afternoon, once again feeling worse for wear. Bill was leaning over him, his ponytail almost touching Draco’s chest. Once he realized Draco was awake, a large grin split over his face. “Welcome back,” he said, and then looked over his shoulder, “you can relax now, Remus, told you he’d be fine.”

                “Did the moon rise yet?” Draco asked groggily, wiping his eyes.

                “You sort of missed it,” a voice chimed in. Draco looked up suddenly and was pleased to see Jack there. Remus must have been really concerned to call him to Grimmauld.

                “What do you mean missed it?”

                Remus and Jack looked between each other. “Well you _did_ transform,” Remus supplied, “you just didn’t wake up during it. Your core was trying to heal you.”

                Draco’s eyes narrowed. “So… I missed it completely? Why did I even wake up then?”

                “Bill upped your vampire genetics like we talked about. It seems to have done the trick.”

                Draco took stock in himself at that. He _did_ feel less at war with himself. “So… I’m fine now?”

                “Perfectly normal,” Bill replied, “for a werewolf/vampire,” he added with a wink.

                “Thank Merlin,” Jack said in relief. He squeezed Draco’s shoulder affectionately. “I have to get back but I’m so glad we finally got this solved. I hope we’ll see you soon.” Draco smiled at him in thanks.

                “Me too. Thanks for coming to check in.” Draco couldn’t believe his luck. He was going to live after all. Maybe having two creatures be a part of him wasn’t all bad.  

                A few days later, however, Draco was observing himself in the mirror, heavily scrutinizing every aspect of himself. He’d shift every so often, getting a proper look at himself from different angles, observing his hair, expression, and physicality. Harry found him about thirty minutes into his bathroom mirror introspection, having left the door ajar. Harry grinned as Draco made faces at himself in the mirror, not used to seeing Draco this odd. “What are you doing?” he asked, causing Draco to jump in alarm.

                “We’re going to need to put a bell on you, Potter,” Draco responded, “you scared the bloody daylights out of me.”

                “It’s not my fault you’re so enthralled with your own visage. Why don’t you just marry yourself?” Harry plopped down on his bed, propping open his beaten up copy of the Odyssey.

                “Oh hah hah, Potter,” Draco bit back sarcastically, then continued quietly: “If you must know, I’m trying to recognize myself.”

                Harry looked up at this in surprise. He assumed Draco was just primping, knowing how vain the ex Malfoy Heir could be. He hadn’t considered insecurity was the reason behind Draco’s scrutiny. “You don’t look much different to me,” Harry offered in response, standing to join him by the mirror.

                “I think I’m overly symmetrical now,” Draco agonized, shifting the angle of his face as he continued to observe himself. “I look inhuman – it’s uncanny.”

                Harry frowned. “You look much healthier after Bill helped you out, though – don’t you agree?”

                “Well yes, but that’s because I was on death’s door before we came to a solution.” Draco _did_ look much better. Bill’s theory really seemed to have done the trick. He now had no trouble eating and did not require as much rest as he previously had, but his appearance seemed a little off now that he had two monsters prominently inside of him. It was enough to make Draco want to claw at himself from the inside out. “I just look so strange anymore.”

                Harry pursed his lips in concentration. “Let me see. Turn towards me.” Draco rolled his eyes but begrudgingly obliged. Harry gave Draco a proper once over, his green eyes slowly roaming over his body. Draco felt heat rise to his cheeks, feeling more like a specimen than a person. He never imagined Potter of all people to be looking at him like this and he never felt so insecure. He forced himself to get a grip as Harry’s eyes roamed back up, meeting his own. A grin formed on his face, shocking Draco – Potter hadn’t smiled like that in weeks. “Show me your teeth?” Draco’s eyes widened but obliged. “Hm. Looks completely ordinary to me – a little more angular and wavier hair, sure, but you’re the same old pointy Draco we all know and begrudgingly tolerate. Can we go get some food now? I’m starved.”

                Draco let out a shocked laugh in response, relieved that he wasn’t completely strange to at least one person. “Sure, Potter.”

                The two unlikely allies in seclusion made their way to the kitchen, finding Ron and Hermione having an in depth discussion with Remus. “I just think he’d be safer in our House, don’t you agree?” Hermione had said. Remus had a frown gracing his features, seemingly conflicted about something.

                “Even I have to agree with that,” Ron replied, “I’m not that fond of him but snakes can be cruel to those they think betrayed them. I wonder if Dumbledore will move him.” Draco’s eyes narrowed at this – they were obviously talking about him.

                “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t have conversations directly concerning my life without me, Professor,” Draco interrupted, alerting the three of his and Harry’s presence. Ron, Hermione, and Remus jumped in response.

                Remus answered him with a grin, obviously amused at Draco’s annoyance, aggravating the blonde further. “I wasn’t the one having the conversation – I was bombarded,” he explained. “Are you hungry?”

                “Starved,” said Draco, sitting with the group. Harry looked like he wanted to run. “Sit down, then, Potter. Wouldn’t want to miss all of the Malfoy gossip would we?”

                “We weren’t gossiping,” Hermione offered, “We’re just concerned about you.”

                “Funny,” Draco replied, reaching for a sandwich, “I was under the impression that I was no better than dirt under your shoe, Granger.”

                “Only when you behave like a prat,” she bit back.

                Draco’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, an easier feat now that it fell lazily over his forehead in waves rather than being glued to the top of his head. He never pegged Granger for wit, though he supposed he never paid much attention to her. “Fair enough,” he responded, not wanting to add more tension to the environment. “Unfortunately, I’ll have an X on my back no matter what House I belong to. I’m also a Prefect: I can’t just abandon my House.”

                Hermione frowned in response. “Do you think it’s wise to keep your position? With everything that has been going on?”

                Draco repressed the urge to snort in response. “I thought you were a Gryffindor,” he bit back.

                “It doesn’t mean I’m bull headed,” she replied.

                Draco huffed, wishing he had remained tucked away in Sirius’s old room. How could someone so intelligent be so daft at times? “I’m not giving up my position because I’ve been ostracized. Not everyone in Slytherin is tied to him; we have enough unkind Slytherins – I’m not going to just abandon the ones that need protection.”

                Ron and Hermione exchanged a look of surprise. “How Gryffindor,” Harry lauded. Draco shot a look of absolute mortification in response, causing Harry, Ron, and Hermione to burst with laughter. Remus, too, had a grin spread wide across his face, much to Draco’s chagrin.

                “Alright, laugh at the unfortunate, very well. Can we let the subject matter go for now, please?” he said, not finding their amusement very amusing.

                “Yes, let’s move on,” Remus replied, the other three attempting to stave their laughter. Ron was wiping a tear from his eye rather dramatically while Hermione had the decency to look ashamed. “Harry,” Remus began again, changing the subject, “your sixteenth birthday is in a few days, are you excited?”

                Harry quirked an eyebrow in a way that made Remus think he was looking at James for a moment. He mentally shook himself. “It’s just a birthday.” Ron, Hermione, and Draco looked taken aback at his nonchalance. “What?” he asked.

                “Sixteen is a special age for wizards and witches – you come into your full heritage and powers,” Remus explained further.

                Harry’s eyebrows got lost in his fringe at that. “Well that’s news to me. What does that even mean, full heritage?”

                “If you have any creature blood it generally comes out a little more. Some hidden abilities can shine through as well. Mostly you’ll be able to tap into your full core.”

                “Ah,” Harry said, “No wonder Voldemort has been trying to wipe me out so early in life.” Draco flinched at the name while Remus just laughed dryly.

                “He’s not one for a fair fight, is he?”

                Harry frowned, thinking back to the mind games of the prior year that led to his godfather’s death. “I guess not.” He suddenly didn’t feel like celebrating any newfound powers to come. “I’m going to go work on summer reading,” he said, standing.

                Remus raised an eyebrow. “That was a bit sudden – you alright?”

                “Yeah, fine. I’m just behind with all the excitement going on. See you.”

                “Harry do you want company?” Hermione offered, a hopeful look in her dark brown eyes.

                Harry grimaced in response. “No thanks, Hermione.” He then disappeared up the stairs.

                “The mood swings on that one,” Ron huffed.

                “Try being his roommate,” Draco replied. Ron let out a laugh, startling the both of them. “This is too weird.”

                Remus stared at the empty spot in the doorway that Harry left, frowning. “I do hope he’s alright.”

                “I would imagine that someone with an ‘x’ marked on their back since birth is rarely alright,” Draco commented.

                “I’ll go check on him,” Ron said, disappearing after Harry before anyone could raise an objection.

                Ron found Harry on the balcony that was attached to Sirius’s old room, smoking a cigarette from Merlin knows where. “Alright, mate?” he asked, sidling next to him.

                Harry side-eyed him, taking a long drag. As he exhaled, his eyes slowly closed, as though willing Ron away. “I’m fine,” he replied curtly, looking over London rather than making eye contact with his best friend of five years.

                Ron suppressed a groan. “Those will kill you, you know,” he responded, gesturing toward the cigarette.

                Harry’s eyes narrowed. “It’s fine.”

                “Where’d you even get those? Mum’ll go spare if she finds out.”

                Harry took another slow drag. “They were in the room,” he commented, letting the smoke billow out of his mouth. “Probably Sirius’s.” Harry looked at his best friend and offered the stick. Ron took it to Harry’s surprise, taking a long practiced drag, sighing as he exhaled. “Look who’s critiquing who - pot kettle much?”

                Ron laughed. “I do have quite a few older brothers, all smokers.” Ron handed the smoke back, “Just don’t tell mum.”

                “Scout’s honor,” Harry replied, crossing his heart.

                “How’s living with the ferret?”

                “Not too terrible, surprisingly. He’s very quiet.”

                “Probably doesn’t want to be kicked out. Never thought I’d see a Malfoy in precarity.”

                “That’s a Hermione word,” Harry commented.

                “Well I’ve only had her to speak to as of late.”

                Harry grimaced. “Sorry.”

                Ron sighed again. “I just want to know why. Do you no longer want to be friends?”

                “Of course not!” Harry exclaimed. “Ron, you’re my best friend. I’ve just been having a really hard time.”

                “I know that. I just feel like your prefer Malfoy lately.”

                Harry looked down at that. “It’s not that I prefer him, Ron. I just don’t really have to be careful with my thoughts around him.”

                Ron huffed. “And you do with us?”

                “A little,” Harry pressed. “I don’t want to scare you with my feelings. It’s been a dark time for me with Sirius and Cedric. Draco is experiencing similar feelings. It’s easier to not frighten him. Please don’t be mad – I’m just trying to get by.”

                Ron frowned at that. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Harry. Hermione and I aren’t fragile, you know, we can handle your darkness. Please don’t shut us out to protect us.”  
                Harry gave a small smile back. “I’ll try to remember that.”

                And he seemed to. In the days leading up to his birthday, Harry made more of an effort to at least sit in the same room as his best friends. Hermione seemed pleased that the two regularly would read quietly with one another, Draco joining at times as well. He and Ron would quietly convene to play chess in the evenings, Ron always besting Harry. Remus, Molly, and the other adults looked happy to see the younger group finally getting along, smiling along to their dinner conversations and willingness to work together around the vast manorhouse. The tumultuous Fifth Year seemed to be moving into the rearview, with Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Draco knitting some fragile form of kinship.

                That was, at least, until the morning of Harry’s sixteenth birthday.

                Draco woke up to a scream and a crash, causing him to jolt out of bed. He looked to Harry’s bed – the absence of the green-eyed wonder making Draco feel queasy. His very sensitive ears picked up heavy breathing coming from the bathroom, where his vision was met by a closed door. Draco slowly approached the door, afraid Harry might spring out of it any minute. He chanced a knock. “Are you alright in there?” he asked.

                “Go away,” was all that was said in response, voice lower than Draco was used to. That wasn’t good.

                “Did you finally notice how absurd your hair is?” Draco drawled, but he was secretly growing more worried.

                “Just leave it.”

                “Can I come in?”

                “ _No.”_ That was a strong voice that screamed familiarity to Draco, but it wasn’t Harry’s.

                Draco’s eyes narrowed. He was nervous to leave Harry like this; he was obviously distressed about something. “Okay, I’m going down to breakfast.” He promptly ran to find Remus.

                He found him in the dining area, drinking from a cup of coffee and reading the Daily Prophet. Harry’s picture was on the cover and Remus looked put off. “What’s with the mugshot?” Draco asked, gesturing toward the cover.

                Remus looked up, frown still gracing his features. “Just speculation on what powers ‘The Chosen One’ will receive today. It’s complete nonsense.”

                “Speaking of Chosen Ones, ours locked himself in the bathroom and won’t get out,” Draco blurted, not one for subtlety this early in the morning. The older werewolf shot up at that, instantly alert. “Care to help me pry open the door?”

                “Already ahead of you,” Remus placed his cup of coffee down and brandished his wand, heading upstairs. Draco trailed behind, thankful the remaining two thirds of the golden trio were not yet awake.

                Remus followed the same protocol as the Malfoy Heir, with a quick knock. “Harry?” he called.

                “Please go away,” an agonized voice responded. Remus turned pale, as though he heard a ghost.

                “Harry, I need you to open the door for me,” he responded. “Is someone in there with you?”

                “What? No. I’m alone. I would like to keep it that way, thanks.” Draco finally placed the voice when it was accompanied with a droll snark.

                “Remus, what happened to him?”

                Remus just shook his head, growing more pallid each moment the door remained closed. “If you don’t open the door willingly, I’m going to have to do it myself,” he pressed.

                There was a long silence. Then: “Please don’t freak out,” in a small voice.

                “I’m not going to freak out.”

                The door then unlocked to Remus and Draco’s relief. Remus opened the door and almost passed out when he saw what greeted him. ‘Get a grip,’ he mentally shook himself. It was Harry, but not at all Harry. In fact, he looked more like a replica of Sirius Black but with green eyes and glasses. Realization crossed Remus’s face. “Oh Harry,” he lamented.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice there is a change from the oneshot in regards to when Harry receives some information.   
> Also sorry this update is short - I just wanted to get something out to you and it seemed like a good place to break it up.   
> Thanks for reading!

Remus stood in the doorway, wondering whether to approach Harry or not. His pajamas were now much too short on him, pants riding at his calves. It was like looking at a ghost for Remus, which honestly wasn’t strange when looking at Harry; it was just a different ghost now. Except for the bright green eyes and slightly different haircut, he was a carbon copy of a young and healthy Sirius Black. What a mess this was.

“What happened to me? Is it the house?” the teenager in question asked, clearly shaken by his appearance.

Draco was finally able to glimpse Harry around Remus and held back a gasp. How was this possible? Did that make him and Harry related? He shuddered at the thought.

“No, Harry,” Remus said. “I believe this is your true inheritance coming through. It would seem that some sort of glamours broke down when you came into your full power.”

“You mean I’m going to look like this forever? Does this mean he’s my… oh God.” Harry collapsed to the floor of the bathroom, pulling his knees to his chest, full realization taking hold. “I’m not a Potter?” he asked, broken.

Remus gingerly sat next to him. “Should I go?” Draco asked.

Harry looked up at him in alarm as if realizing he was there for the first time. “No. Please stay.”

Draco schooled his features to not betray how happy he was to have Harry wanting him around and sat on the opposite side of him. He’d finally be able to return the favor of comforting Harry during a meltdown; he didn’t have to have the night with the letter hanging over his head any longer.

Remus smiled knowingly at Draco, who flushed. He returned to the situation at hand with a sigh. “I think I need to fully explain the relationship dynamic of James, Lily, Sirius and I for you to fully understand what’s going on.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”

Remus scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, silently cursing the Dark Lord for leaving him alone to explain something so personal. “So in the 70s there were multiple wars going on, with the Muggles and us. There was a lot of fear associated with that – everyone was feeling like there wasn’t much time. For some of us, like Lily and James, and now Sirius, that was true.” Harry looked very forlorn at that, it was odd to see Sirius’s face twist in that kind of way – he had been taught to school his features from a young age. Remus shook himself again. “Nobody wanted to leave anything behind if they died, especially love. Polyamory was pretty common.”

Realization flashed in Harry’s eyes when they looked back up at the werewolf. “You were all together?” Draco coughed in surprise and Harry jumped, remembering he was still there.

Remus’s cheeks heated up in embarrassment. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation without any backup. “Well, yes. For quite a while, we were all inseparable. Then James got pregnant.”

“Wait, wait. What?” Harry was becoming overwhelmed. Wizards could get pregnant? Why was this never explained to people coming from Muggle families?

“I know it seems insane to you, growing up with Muggles. Very powerful wizards can become pregnant. Your father was essentially unmatched in magic, except for maybe Sirius. They came from strong, old families. Male pregnancy is common for them.”

“But I have my mother’s eyes. I have Lily’s eyes – everyone tells me that!” Harry was becoming more and more upset by the minute.

 Draco squeezed his hand tight; Harry gripped back even harder. “Breathe,” Draco encouraged, “you’re working yourself into a panic attack.”

Remus grabbed Harry’s other hand and Harry squeezed it in thanks, trying to hold back inevitable tears. He breathed in and out deeply, willing himself to calm down. “I have my mum’s eyes,” he whispered.

It was almost too much for Remus to bear. He bit back emotions of his own – he was the only adult figure left for Harry with a close connection to his parents; he had to keep it together for him. “Your eyes are signature Black. It makes sense; James also had Black blood, but he was so removed from Sirius’s line that they didn’t care about any Muggle taboo surrounding in-breeding. Your eyes are like your Uncle Regulus’s – in fact you look just like him when he was your age, apart from the glasses and hair.”

Harry was becoming more downtrodden by the moment. “I can’t _look_ at myself,” he agonized. “I can’t look at myself ever again. I don’t want to see him staring back at me.”

“You have to understand that it’s not Sirius in the mirror and that it is you. You were able to reconcile this with James.”

“That was different – I didn’t know him.” That stung Remus like a blade slicing through his heart. “I knew myself. I watched that body grow up. I didn’t see myself like this. All I can see is him now.” Harry pulled away from the two werewolves and put his head in his hands. “I lost so much time with him,” he whispered to himself. It was as though Sirius was dying all over again. He had a father. A living father. And for what? For him to be ripped away from Harry before he could really know him? It was too much to take.

Remus squeezed Harry’s shoulder gently and Harry collapsed in his arms, obviously in the throes of emotional overdrive. Draco tried not to be jealous that he had to share Remus’s fatherly affections – he wasn’t used to that. “You had some time, though. You were able to get to know him a little bit.”

“He was in jail for the majority of my life because of Ministry incompetence,” Harry spat bitterly. “I could have known my father in a way where he wasn’t so broken down. Whoever did this glamour took that from me. Why would someone do this?”

Remus frowned. “I’m not sure. And I’m not sure who did it. Lily was positive you were hers. She loved you so much. If she did this I’m sure it was to protect you in some fashion. Lily was a good person.” Harry snorted. It didn’t seem that way at the moment.  “She probably didn’t consider your becoming so strong. You’ve been able to do wandless magic for some time, most wizards are lucky if they can do that after coming into their full powers. She couldn’t have known this would happen.”

Harry frowned. “I spent all of that time with the Dursleys for nothing.” All of that abuse for nothing, Harry thought bitterly. So much for family magic.

“Not necessarily. If Lily did do this it would probably be a blood adoption, which would mix her genes with yours. You were related to the Dursleys until this morning.”

“I didn’t even know that was possible. I didn’t know a lot of things were possible.” Harry rubbed his face, suddenly tired. “Why would she do this?”

“I’m not sure she acted alone. When James found out he was having you Lily insisted we couple off for protection. The Dark Lord couldn’t get to all of us if we were spread out. James took a leave with the Aurors and went into hiding with her. When you were born everyone was so happy; Sirius and I were happy to even be considered quasi uncles. We never questioned it – which strikes me as odd.” Remus was now frowning as well.

Draco scrunched his nose in disdain. The first war seemed more complex than what history books or his parents allowed. “Maybe you were all Confunded,” he suggested.

Remus looked at Draco in realization. “I think you’re on to something. I’m going to have to check if there are any journals left behind. For now, though, we have to carry on.”

Harry was beside himself. “How am I supposed to show my face anywhere ever again? How am I supposed to deal with the reactions?”      

“This might be advantageous for you,” Draco supplied, trying to brighten the mood a bit. “Nobody knows what you look like right now. That means You-Know-Who doesn’t either. You can go out to London and enjoy anonymity for awhile.”

“I’m walking around with a convicted murderer’s face, Draco.” Draco was surprised at being called by his first name again. Have they officially crossed the bridge of enemies into some strange friendship? He pushed those thoughts aside to attend to the newly minted Black. “If anything this just makes it more difficult for me.”

“Yes, but it’s obvious you’re younger and not him,” Draco pressed.  “It’s clear to anyone that there is a relation but right now nobody knows what that could be. The only Black tapestries are here and Black Manor, which is unoccupied.”

“I’m on the tapestry? I didn’t see myself there before.” Harry was beginning to be distracted from his plight from the casual dialogue with Draco, to which he was thankful.

Draco, catching on to Harry’s emotions, continued on. “You’d have to be – it’s woven with ancestral magic. It would know.”

“I hate Pureblood stuff, it’s so creepy.”

Draco snorted. “Get used to it. You are officially a Pureblood – an Heir even.”    

Harry frowned again. “I didn’t realize that.” How did he go from a humble Half Blooded Potter to the Heir of the Black House in one night? What did that mean for him? Would he have to become like Draco – stiff and pointy and proper? He shuddered at the thought.

“I’m going to have to tell Dumbledore about this so we can figure out what to do about the upcoming school year,” Remus interjected, shaking Harry from his spiraling thoughts about Heirdom.

The reality of being stuck in his new body suddenly washed over Harry like ice water. He wasn’t even thinking about Hogwarts – it hadn’t crossed his mind that he would still look like this when school resumed. “I’d rather crawl under a rock than return to Hogwarts like this,” he said, almost resigning himself to doing just that. He barely survived the rumour mill surrounding himself and the Chamber of Secrets in Second Year, never mind the campaign against him during the Triwizard Tournament. He suddenly felt very tired at the prospect of going on.

“We’ll figure this out, okay? Why don’t you get something to eat – you’ve had a fright.”

Harry jumped up as if Remus shocked him with his words. “Are you kidding me - I can’t go down there! I can’t handle the reaction right now.”

“We’ll come with you –“ Remus began to offer, but Harry cut him off, unwilling to cow to Remus’s outlandish suggestion.  

“No. I’m staying up here.”

And he did. For the entirety of his sixteenth birthday, Harry did not leave his room. Instead, he kept himself under the covers, afraid to even see his limbs, which were now elongated to a point where he couldn’t even recognize his own fingers. He didn’t want to face his friends, embarrassed that he didn’t even know himself anymore. Mostly he was devastated that he could have had a closer relationship with Sirius when he was alive; afraid to sully the sole image of James in his head as a father figure, he found himself shying away from more parental moments with Sirius, opting for something more akin to friendship instead. In a way, he was happy that Remus was suddenly stepping into a more paternal role, not wanting to miss out again. For now, though, Harry mourned and he mourned alone.

Draco would periodically check in on him, bringing food – Harry assumed Remus was running interference for him, knowing how hard of a time he was having. By dinner, though, everyone had enough of the birthday boy hiding himself away. Ron and Hermione entered the room to retrieve him, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Mate, mum made you all your favorites, you should come downstairs,” Ron said.

Harry sunk further into his blankets, not wanting them to see his face. “I’m not feeling well,” he responded, hoping they would chalk up the vocal differences to a cold.

“Remus said your inheritance was unexpected. We just want to make sure you’re alright,” Hermione pressed. Harry felt thankful for the older werewolf not giving specifics. “Whatever it is, holing yourself up in your room all day isn’t doing you any good.” He knew she was right but he was so afraid to show them what had happened. He felt guilty for that – why was he okay with Malfoy knowing his secrets but not his best friends?

“Today I just want to do that,” he tried, hoping they would respect his wishes.

“At least come down to dinner. We’re not going to be upset with you – whatever it is,” Ron pressed. “I meant it when I said we can handle your darkness.”

Harry scrunched his eyes shut at that, trying to keep his emotions in check. Ron was trying, but it was difficult to imagine the redhead react in anything but anger. It was like he was lying to him all this time, even though he couldn’t have possibly known himself. “I’m afraid to show you,” he said, hardly above a whisper.

“Harry,” Hermione lamented, “it’s going to be okay. We’re going to see sooner or later.”

He supposed she was right. How much longer did he really think he could avoid them? He’d have to leave eventually. “Okay.” Gathering as much Gryffindor courage he could muster, he rose from the sheets, eyes downcast in order to not read their reactions. He heard the soft gasps however, and he flinched as though he were struck by the noise.

“How did this happen?” Ron asked in disbelief, expecting only minor changes in appearance. Remus really didn’t prepare them for this.

Harry sighed. “Nobody is sure. Remus thinks I had an adoption spell on me that changed my appearance. My full powers probably broke it down.”

“Who, James?”

“Lily.”

Ron let out a big breath. “Jeez.” Ron patted his knee affectionately. “Well, we’ll get this sorted, I’m sure, no sense starving yourself – come on.” Harry blinked. Was that all that was to be said?

That was all that could really be said about it, he supposed, seeing Hermione smile reassuringly at him, trying to hide her apprehension. Harry begrudgingly joined everyone for his birthday dinner, avoiding everyone’s gaze. Remus must’ve given everyone fair warning because nobody brought up his sudden change in appearance. A few people would begin to call him by Sirius’s name and shake themselves out of it, apologizing. By the third time it happened, Harry quietly left the table and shut himself back into his room, vowing to never come out of it. He wouldn’t be tricked so easily again.

It was around midnight when Draco finally made a reappearance in their shared room, probably wanting to give Harry some space. He dropped quite a few parcels at the foot of Harry’s bed. “You left these, Mrs. Weasley asked me to take them up for you,” he said.

Harry rubbed his face in guilt. “Does she think I’m cross with her?” She was the one to blurt it out the last time. Harry rushed out of the room so quickly she probably thought he didn’t want to be around her ever again, which wasn’t far from the truth in all honesty; he didn’t really want to be around anyone anymore.

Draco, seeing the doom spiraling ready to go, tried to stop it in its tracks. “Of course not – she knows you’re having a rough go of it. Not the most ideal way to spend a sixteenth birthday is it?”

Harry sighed and sat up. “Can we go out?” he asked. Draco started at that, snapping his head up to meet Harry’s eyes. He looked determined – or rather desperate.

“Come again?”

“Out. I want to go out. I have a fake.” Harry began rummaging through his things and then stopped. “Right. Guess it won’t work with having a different face and all.” He looked deflated as he sat back on his bed.

Draco bit the bottom of his lip, already regretting what he was about to say. “I know a place.”

Harry grinned. It was odd seeing Sirius’s face light up like that – Draco only knew him from old portraits and he was always stoically stone-faced. “Really?”

“Yes – let’s turn this birthday around shall we?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quick update for you. I find that if I only give myself about 2000-3000 words I can churn them out faster but it's up to you guys - more content with less updating or smaller chunks? Let me know in the comments :)
> 
> Side note - this chapter is a little weird. It showcases Harry's spiraling.

Harry felt as though he could kiss Draco at the moment – he was so posh he actually _knew_ of a place where he didn’t have to feign being 17. His excitement at the prospect of running away from everyone, for even just a few short hours, was short lived. “Nothing I have fits me now,” Harry said frowning. “I can’t very well go out in a robe. I think I’m destined to be trapped here.”

Draco sighed. Did he really have to think through everything for the Boy Who Lived? “I’m sure there are some left over clothes from yester-year of his you can rummage through. Did you try the wardrobe?” he suggested.

Harry continued to frown. “Wouldn’t that be weird? I’m sure Kreacher didn’t take good care of it anyway – they’re probably no good.”

“One way to find out,” Draco replied, gesturing toward the wardrobe. “Come on now, it’s already past midnight – we don’t have all night to play dress up.”

“Alright, alright,” Harry held up his hands in defeat, “You don’t have to bark at me,” he quipped, heading towards the highly ornate wardrobe in the corner of the bedroom.

“Oh har-har, very funny,” Draco responded sarcastically, not missing the werewolf joke. Secretly, though, he was a bit relieved. If Harry was joking, he had to be coming to terms, right?

***

Draco was so wrong.

Not thirty minutes after the clothes debacle, Draco was sat in a booth in the back of one of his favorite clubs while he watched the savior of the wizarding world get absolutely trashed.

Draco wasn’t completely sure how they managed to sneak out, if they really did at all. He suspected there was an Order member or Auror lurking somewhere in the vicinity, but he thought they were pretty much home free – Harry using his Invisibility Cloak to get them past the front door. Hopefully, Draco thought, watching the green eyed boy take several shots at the bar, they’d be able to sneak back in without him tripping over his feet.

Dressed in the tightest black jeans Draco has ever seen on anyone and a Ramone’s t-shirt, Harry looked dangerously handsome and everyone seemed to be aware of it. He’d move through the crowd as men and women pushed themselves against him, eager to try and grab his attention. Harry would smile easily and dance with some of them, Draco assuming the alcohol was aiding in his ease. It was night and day from his demeanor during the day. He’d go up to the bar to order a drink and someone would get it for him, Harry smiling his thanks and heading back to the floor. Draco found himself unable to look away, enraptured by Harry’s sudden charisma.

“Who’s that, then?”

Draco jumped at the sudden intrusion and looked up. It was Blaise. “Don’t scare me like that!” Draco replied. “I thought you were one of the others.”

“Nope, no consumers of death, just humble ol’ me.” Blaise winked at Draco, sitting down in the booth with him. “Like they’d know of this place anyway – decidedly Muggle, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. Even so, you can never be sure.”

Draco was honestly happy to see Blaise. One of the only neutral Slytherins these days, he always felt as though he could trust him. He actually frequented this club with Blaise on multiple occasions the previous summer, but they fizzled out when the school year began and Draco had begun to become more pressured by his family.

“Are you being safe I hope? You look a little strange” Blaise was one of the only people Draco confided in when weighing asylum. He was decidedly happy when Draco admitted he was going turncoat, Blaise never being one for Muggle hating violent endeavors.

“Could be the notice-me-not you somehow have the ability to see through,” he responded, not willing to delve into the monster inside of him in Muggle London.

“Maybe I was hoping to see you.”

Draco laughed into his drink. “I recall you were the one to break it off, Blaise.” His eyes darted over to check on Harry, glad he ditched the glasses for the night so as not to give anything away.

Blaise followed his gaze, resting on the new Black. “You never answered my question. I don’t recall a Black our age.”

“I didn’t know you were a Black scholar.”

Blaise frowned, aware Draco was trying to deflect. “Never said I was – just a bit strange that I don’t recognize this one.”

Draco shrugged, nursing his drink rather than meeting Blaise’s eyes. He was obviously on to him.

As if Merlin were against him, Harry took that moment to saunter over and plop down unceremoniously next to Draco. “This. Is. Fun.” He said, punctuating each word as though trying not to slur. He eyed Draco’s drink. “What’s that then?”

“Not your business,” he replied. He really needed to cut Potter off.

“Hello there,” Blaise interrupted.

Harry looked up at him as if noticing his presence for the first time. “Hi,” he responded, then dissolved into giggles, “don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Draco gave him a warning glare, noticing the flirtation in his tone. “I’m Blaise, and yourself?” he held out a hand for Harry to shake.

Harry took it, marveling at the tanned skin in a way that only an unbelievably drunk person could get away with. “Nice to meet you. I’m Antares Black,” he lied easily. Draco blinked at the name. _Clever,_ he thought to himself, _how long did it take for him to think that one up?_

“Antares,” Blaise tried it on his mouth, smiling around the vowels, “where have you been? Haven’t really seen you ‘round school.”

“What school is that, then?” How was he being so smooth and simultaneously so drunk, Draco wondered. If he had as much to drink as Harry, he would have given up the ghost pretty quickly.

“Hogwarts, of course.”

“Oh,” he replied, “I lived in America for some time – went to Ilvermory.” Hermione’s constant babbling had made some sort of impact on Harry if he was easily bringing up foreign schools. Maybe he knew more than he let on all the time.

“A Black in America?” Blaise wondered aloud. “How odd.”

Harry grinned, and Draco saw the old him shine through for a moment; it took the breath out of him. Blaise seemed to notice it too – he gave Harry an odd look of half-recognition, looking as though he were trying to recall something. “Dray can we leave?” he chose to say instead of continuing on with Blaise. “It’s getting past my bedtime and the bartender said I couldn’t have anymore – what does he know anyway?”

“Probably a lot more than you,” Draco quipped, to which Harry stuck his tongue out in response. “Mature.” He rose from where he was sitting and smiled apologetically at Blaise. “See you soon, yeah?”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Blaise replied, still staring at Harry as though trying to read him.

“Bye Blaine,” Harry slurred, pulling Draco away.

“It’s, oh forget it,” Draco heard, making him laugh rather loudly.

Once out on the street, Harry leaned against the brick wall. “That was close wasn’t it?” he laughed.

“Too close. Glad you had the sense to get out of there.”

“Well there’s always tomorrow.”

“What?”

Harry procured his cloak from the satchel he insisted on bringing. “Let’s go.”

***

Despite Draco’s efforts to keep Harry away from the club, they made a reappearance every night for the majority of the rest of summer break. The days were back to the old Harry – moody and silent, smoking on the balcony, barking at people who wanted to ask if he was okay. The nights were reserved for this new Antares, lighting up the dance floor with a signature Potter grin, grinding up against men and women alike.

Draco knew it was self-destructive – he knew Harry was drinking to forget. He knew he should have told someone. But he couldn’t help but allow them to keep sneaking out, if just to see Harry come alive for a few hours each miserable day.

The day Harry had to meet with Dumbledore was the worst. He thought he could keep this newfound alias he came up with, and shed the savior image. He became completely irate when he was told that it wouldn’t work – that it would just be business as usual. He had launched a string of curses at Dumbledore, accusing him of doing this to him – which probably wasn’t far from the truth, regardless of how close the older wizard was keeping his cards to his chest. He stormed out and into his room with a loud bang, forcing Draco out in the dead of night when everyone finally went to bed.

That night Harry was manic. He’d constantly have a drink in his hand, dancing on too many people to count, making out with multiple men. It stung Draco a bit to see him like this but what could he do? If he told him no, Harry would just go out by himself. He’d rather have someone there with him to keep an eye out on potential dangers.

Harry was suddenly pulling him onto the floor and pulling him out of his thoughts. This was new. Usually the Black Heir would leave him to his corner spot, focusing his attention on strangers who didn’t know what was really going on inside of him. Now, though, he was grinding up against Draco as though they were lovers. Gone was the timid and poor dancer of Fourth Year – Harry was definitely at home with a more modern melody. Draco’s body was responding involuntarily – he pulled Harry around, who thought it was an invitation to kiss him.

Draco stopped him before he got there. “You’re drunk,” he said.

Harry looked as though he were slapped. “I thought you wanted this!” he said. “I see you watching me over there every night!”

Heat rose to Draco’s cheeks. So he had noticed. “Not like this – not while you’re exercising self-loathing through alcoholism.”

Harry pushed him away. “You don’t know me if you think that’s what I’m doing.”

People were beginning to look over at them to see the commotion. Draco didn’t even care. “I know you more than you want me to. This isn’t healthy.”

“Piss off, Malfoy.” Now that stung. He hadn’t heard Harry refer to him as that in a while. Suddenly Harry weaved into the crowd and out of site.

When he reached the safety of his booth, unwilling to abandon Harry entirely, Draco was surprised to find Remus sitting there. Suddenly feeling the tiredness only a fortnight of frequently a loud club could give, Draco sat in the booth with a simple, “Wotcher, Professor Lupin.”

Remus looked nonplussed at the greeting, amber eyes narrowed, lips forming a thin line. “I was okay with you guys blowing off steam – I’ve been 16 contrary to popular belief. But fighting in a Muggle club? Really?”

Draco was taken aback. “You _knew_ we’ve been sneaking out? We were so careful!”

Remus laughed. “Wolf ears.”

Draco groaned. “Don’t remind me – I’ve had a constant headache being stuck in this noise void.” Then he realized. “Our footsteps.”

Remus hummed in confirmation.

“That doesn’t explain how you knew where we were.” Remus tapped his nose. “Right.”

“Honestly I’d thought you were cleverer than that.”

“So now a blow to my ego too? Thanks, professor.”

Remus laughed again. “How are you doing by the way – feeling ill at all?”

Draco shrugged. “I honestly forgot the moon was coming. I never thought I’d be thankful to a Weasley but it really worked well. I’m more concerned about him.” Draco nodded over to the Boy Who Lived.

Remus sighed wearily. “He’s being rather destructive.”

“I don’t know how to pull him out of it.”

“You’ll be back in school soon – vices won’t be so easily accessible.”

Draco frowned. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. He’s already irate during the day – I can’t imagine what he’ll be like at school.”

“He’s going to get through it but it’s definitely going to be a rough road. He’s still mourning and this just makes it worse.”

Harry, noticing Remus, stumbled his way over. “Party’s over?” he slurred, slumping next to Draco.

Draco nodded, feeling awkward about Harry leaning on him so heavily when he just tried to kiss him minutes before. “We’ve been found out, it seems.”

Harry frowned. “I have to retire Antares?”

Remus barked out a laugh. “That’s clever,” he lauded, “guarded by Sirius. Nice.”

Harry beamed at him and Remus saw the old Harry behind the new face, which made him less angry at the two. “I reeeeaaallly don’t want to go back to Grimmauld, Remus.” Sirius was back, it shook Remus to the core – he remembered a similar conversation in the very same bar twenty years prior to this.

“You’ll only be back there for a few days – you’ll be back to Hogwarts soon enough.”

Harry sighed and stood, resigning himself to the idea that the fun was officially over. Antares was dead.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a few months--very sorry about that! I was finishing up my PhD semester and was at conferences and writing academically. Thanks so much for your support and interest in the story! Hopefully I can whip a new chapter out soon!

            Harry had been in the foulest of moods since Remus had pulled the plug on his nightly ventures. He would either be hiding out in his and Draco’s shared room or causing a scene in the kitchen or living room. Rarely, he would give an answer to how he was feeling—if anything, it made him more irate. There was no talk of any attempted kissing; in fact, Draco thought Harry was probably too drunk to remember. Draco wasn’t willing to divulge that information either, lest he become Harry’s next object of derision.

            Remus found himself victim of the infamous ice glare so commonly worn by members of the Black family any time he tried to speak to Harry. It was so eerily similar to Sirius’s facial expression of betrayal that it left the werewolf reeling every time it was critically aimed toward him. He was met with that stare the morning sixth year letters arrived.

            “It’s addressed to Harry Black Potter” he stated plainly, his face twisting into a frown.

            “The magic associated with the Hogwarts registry probably recognized the shift and didn’t know what to do with two fathers” Remus tried to explain, to which Harry responded with that glare. Remus raised his hands in defense. “I don’t control that magic, Harry, there’s not much I can do about it.”

            Harry blinked the glare off his face, returning to his letter. “I think I need new robes,” he muttered, fully aware that he had been wearing Sirius’s old clothes the entire month—nothing else would fit.

            “Why don’t we go to Diagon Alley today? You’ll be back to school in a week and we’re running out of time to get everything” Remus suggested. Hermione, who had been quietly reading her letter at the table with everyone looked up at Remus in alarm, as if she knew what the response would be.

            The glare returned. “I can’t very well go out there,” Harry responded, as if Remus had suggested they go out to dinner with Voldemort.

            Remus, nonplussed, responded, “You very well can with our security detail, I’m sure.”

            Draco let out a snort, unable to keep it in. He enjoyed when Remus gave it back to Harry, who had been insufferable as of late. The glare was now aimed at Draco, who shrugged at it. “You don’t scare me, Potter, I lived with a Dark Lord for a year.”

            “Oh, Draco,” Hermione sighed in sympathy. Draco’s eyed narrowed. He hated the pity from her and that’s all she’s managed to give him.

            “Don’t,” he responded, unwilling to deal with another round of Muggleborn ideas of what is and isn’t fair.

            “Don’t be rude to her, Malfoy,” Ron warned.

            “How am I being rude? So quick to make me a villain, Weasley.”

            “Well if the shoe fits-“ Ron began, only to be cut off by Remus and Molly.

            “ _Enough,_ ” the two warned simultaneously, causing all of the teenagers to jump and look up. Remus cleared his throat. “We are going to Diagon Alley today, _all_ of us,” he said, aiming his own glare at Harry.

            “Mrs. Weasley, do you really think this is safe?” Harry asked, trying to manipulate or sway any adult he could to see reason.

            Molly aimed her own glare at Harry. “I have six sons, do you really think I’m going to budge? Let’s go.”

            That seemed to be that. Harry begrudgingly stomped along with them to Diagon Alley. He found himself stopping in his tracks right before the Muggle/Wizard divide, however, unable to bring himself to continue on. Ron, following behind, bumped into him, obviously not paying attention. “Alright, mate?” he asked, noticing his frozen friend. The carefully disguised Auror guard began to look back, not initially catching the stop.

            Harry looked at Ron, frowning. “I don’t think I can do this, Ron. What if there’s a coup? Draco shouldn’t be here either, it’s too dangerous for him.”

            Ron squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “We have Aurors and Order members. It’s going to be okay. Nobody knows you look like this right now—it’s probably very safe. Malfoy is under protection as well. We’re going to get in and out, I promise.”

            Harry looked at Draco in concern, who was also looking a little weary about entering a magical area. “They’ll catch on soon enough. We should have disguised Draco.”

            One of the Aurors stepped in. Harry couldn’t recall his name or he never much cared to ask. “We have notice me nots on all of you, including Mr. Malfoy. This venture will be a safe one.”

            Harry shook his head. “I’ve been promised safety so many times before. Hogwarts was supposed to be safe.”

            Draco frowned, remembering his own public breakdown in the werewolf village just a few short months ago. “We can’t hide forever, Potter,” he said. “Let’s just get in and out, yeah?”

            Harry looked at Draco in disbelief, but ultimately nodded. “Fine.”

            Entering Diagon Alley for the first time since his change was terrifying for Harry. Unlike Muggle London, where being recognized was nearly impossible, walking around like a mini Sirius Black was sure to arise looks, especially if he was walking with Ron and Hermione. Harry kept his head down most of the time, eager to be safely back in Grimmauld.

            They were able to navigate most of the shops without anyone stopping or staring, thanks to the notice me nots firmly placed. However, when they reached _Madam Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions_ Harry found himself unable to shy away.

            Madam Malkin seemed to pay him no mind at all, most likely not caring about pureblood politics enough to find a young Black suddenly popping up odd. His luck ran out when he was placed next to none other than Blaise Zabini to get measured. He eyed him as the magical measuring tape did its job, instantly recognizing him from the club. “Antares!” he exclaimed.

            Harry just tightly nodded, not wanting to blow his cover.

            “Fancy seeing you in a robes shop of all places, I thought your look was much more relaxed.”

            “I need a Hogwarts uniform,” he explained quietly.

            Blaise’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “You’ll be at school this year? Brilliant,” he said, a wicked grin gracing his features that went right to Harry’s gut. _Cool it_ , he told himself. “How are they doing the sorting then?”

            Harry shrugged.

            “Not very talkative without a few drinks are you?”

            “Guess not.”

            Madam Malkin interrupted their conversation at that moment, to Harry’s relief. “Mr. Zabini, you’re done. I’ll see you back here in a half hour for pick up.”

            “My mum will be ‘round, thanks,” he said, stepping down. “Hope to see you in the snake’s den, Antares.” Harry gave a small smile of acknowledgement and Blaise was gone.

            “Antares?” Malkin said, knowing full well Harry gave Harrison Black as his name.

            Harry smiled politely in response. “It’s an inside joke,” he lied.

            “Ah,” she said, thankfully not pressing further. “You’re done as well. See you in a half hour.”

            _Thank Merlin,_ Harry thought, stepping down and out of the shop as quickly as possible. Draco was talking to Blaise outside, looking pinched.

            “I really think you should stay in Prefects quarters this year. I know Nott has it in for you,” he heard Blaise say, concern sparkling in his eyes.

            “I’m not afraid of Theo,” Draco responded, not noticing Harry was encroaching. “He still sleeps with a teddy.”

            “Draco, this is serious. You could get really hurt.”

            “Why do you suddenly care?” he snapped. “I don’t recall you being around much last year.”

            Blaise stiffened at that. “I just—I didn’t know if—I couldn’t be sure—“

            “If I was trustworthy? If you loved me? What? I am so sick of my emotions being yanked on by you all the time!” Harry must be rubbing off on him, Draco felt ready to pounce.

            Harry wasn’t sure if he should step in. Draco’s yelling would definitely arouse looks, notice-me-nots be damned. He looked around for his Auror guard. They were still surrounding Harry and Draco, leaning against shop walls, reading newspapers, anything that would allow them to blend in. Harry could sigh in relief at that moment. They would be safe.

            Blaise was staring at Draco with an unreadable expression. “I never doubted my love for you, Draco.” Draco snorted in a very un-Malfoy-like manner as a response. “I’m serious!”

            “Well you have a funny way of showing it. Breaking up with someone you love isn’t very convincing.”

            “I was trying to keep my family safe! I didn’t know if you were aligning with your father or not.”

            Draco looked as if he were slapped. “Then you obviously don’t know me at all.”

            Blaise tried to touch Draco as he said “Please don’t see it that way. I was scared.”

            Draco flinched away. “You don’t get to touch me,” he seethed.

            Harry chose that moment to make himself known. “Draco I’m all done.” The two Slytherins looked up in shock. “Is everything okay?”

            Draco was the first to shake himself. “I’m fine. Let’s go to the apothecary, I need to restock some ingredients.”

            “Draco,” Blaise tried, looking desperate and sad, face twisted in remorse.

            “Don’t,” Draco responded, “see you at school.” Draco pulled Harry away and down the block swiftly, Aurors following closely.

            “Are you okay?” Harry asked when they were safely tucked in the apothecary. The rest of the group were waiting for them in there but Draco ventured upstairs in an effort to collect himself without prying eyes. Harry, of course, followed, not being able to keep to himself.

            Draco avoided Harry’s eyes, instead focusing on a wide variety of bezoars in front of him. “I’m fine.”

            Harry frowned. “You don’t seem fine.”

            Draco squeezed his eyes shut. _Don’t blow up,_ he warned himself, feeling the full force of his Aunt Bella’s madness inside of him. _Don’t mess this one up too._

            Harry placed an arm on Draco’s shoulder, who started in response. “Draco?”

            “Just leave it, okay? I’m fine.” He could hear Harry’s heartbeat pounding erratically. _Fucking wolf ears._ He turned to the newly minted Black, trying to see Harry’s old face through it. He chose to focus on his eyes which were exactly the same as before. “I’m sorry. The wolf doesn’t let me control my emotions the way I used to. I’m still learning.”

            “It’s okay you don’t have to apologize.”

            Harry was speaking too softly for Draco to bear. How was he so angry at others but gentle to him? He could smell the pheromones and it was driving him spare. He could not be falling for a distant cousin—it was just too weird and too taboo. “Can we just get this done so we can go?”

            Harry obliged, getting on with the rest of their errands. Harry returned to the robes shop last with a singular Auror, Draco unwilling to approach the area. Inside, Blaise was waiting for him. _Great._ “Draco’s not with me, Blaise,” Harry said. “He went home.”

            Blaise frowned. “That’s alright. Can you tell him I’m sorry? I didn’t mean for him to be upset with me. I really care about him.”

            Harry’s lips drew into a thin line. “Look, I don’t know what kind of relationship the two of you had, but it seems to me like you hurt him pretty badly when you broke things off with him.”

            Blaise blanched at that. “We were mostly casual. I think we both caught more feelings than we let on.”

            “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know what your game is but I don’t think Draco wants to play. If you really want to be friends again I suggest you lay off a bit.”

            “How would you know what Draco wants to do? You aren’t his keeper.”

            “I know Draco a lot better than you do.”

            “How? You’ve just met him. You know nothing of Draco Malfoy.”

            Harry’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You’d be surprised. Just back off, okay? I thought Slytherins knew when to back down from a threat.”

            Recognition shone in Blaise’s eyes suddenly. _Shite._ “You’re not from America are you?”

            The Auror Harry was with suddenly approached. He was disguised to look like an older version of Harry. “I got your robes. Let’s go, yeah?”

            Harry could kiss the Auror. “Thanks, Dad. Goodbye Blaise.”

            “Just tell him I’m sorry, okay?”

            “We’ll see.”

            And that was that.

            Draco kept it together until they returned to Grimmauld, locking himself away in his and Harry’s room as soon as he possibly could. Why was he letting Blaise affect him like this? How could he think he’d sell his best friend and his family out to the death eaters? Was he really that awful? He knew he could be a brat but he didn’t think he was capable of murder.

            He was crying again. Wasn’t that lovely? Remus must have heard him because soon he was knocking on the door. “Draco, you missed dinner. I brought some tea.”

            Draco willed himself to put on his Malfoy mask once more. _Stop crying_. _Malfoys don’t cry_. He pushed down the malaise that he technically wasn’t a Malfoy anymore and gathered himself. “Come in.” Remus was alone, thankfully. He wondered where Harry had screwed off to in order to give Draco some space.

            The older werewolf sat on the edge of Draco’s bed, handing him a large mug of tea. “Hi.”

            “Hey.”

            Draco had scooted back against the headboard, curling around his mug. His head was low, trying to hide the puffiness of his eyes. “You know you can experience emotion in front of me, right? I won’t destroy your reputation by telling.”

            Draco knew Remus was giving him a wry smile but couldn’t bring himself to look up to him. “I wish mum was here,” he sighed.

            “I know. I’m doing my best.”

            Draco looked up in alarm. “I didn’t mean you weren’t. You’ve been—well, wonderful actually. I feel bad for being such a brat Third Year.”

            Remus snorted. “Trust me, it was more karma for my school days than anything. I’ve been much worse.”

            “Doubt it. Perfect Professor Lupin.”

            “I was conniving at times. I’ve made my fair share of mishaps.”

            Draco huffed out a laugh, trying to imagine Remus being anything but cordial. “Sure.” He then became serious again. “I was thinking about returning to school and I’m not sure I want to.”

            “Brilliant, you can stand in line behind Harry. If we get enough members we plan to fuck off to France.”

            Draco barked out a laugh at that, surprised by Remus’s brashness. “It’s not as though Potter has a choice in the manner.”

            “Oh and you do?” Remus was amused. “Let’s hear it, then.”

            “I can go to the werewolf colony. I’m safer there.”

            Remus was suddenly not so amused anymore. “That’s not happening.”

            Draco scrunched up his face at that. “And why not? That’s where I’d be if you didn’t come.”

            “You’re not going back there any time soon. It’s not safe.”

            “How can you say somewhere you’ve lived most of your life isn’t safe? It’s like a fortress!” Draco was becoming upset all over again.

            “The Greyback colony is neutral.”

            “They’re good people.”

            “I agree. But my father is very utilitarian in the face of protecting what is his.”

            “Aren’t I technically part of that?”

            “You most certainly are but I don’t doubt that if You-Know-Who threatened the village on the grounds of you being handed over that he would do so without much hesitation.”

            Draco frowned. “Utilitarian.”

            “Very.”

            “Would he sell you out?”

            Remus thought on that for a moment. “I’m not sure. Honestly, I’d probably sacrifice myself before he could. I care about those people.”

            “I care about them too,” Draco argued.

            “I wasn’t insinuating you didn’t. I’m insinuating that I don’t want to put you in a situation where you have to choose the safety of those around you over yourself. It’s not a fun place to be.”

            “Tell me about it,” Draco sighed, thinking back to his mother’s letter. “So I have to see him again?”

            “What happened?”

            Draco looked away, embarrassed. He didn’t fancy baring his love life to a professor, but the lines of mentorship and guardianship had become so blurred between the two of them that he gave up the ghost fairly quickly. “Blaise and I had been friends for a very long time. And then we weren’t.”

            “That’s not helping me help you much, Draco.”

            Draco sighed. “Fine.” He gathered up some Gryffindor courage hanging in the air and dove in. “Blaise’s family was always neutral with Blaise definitely leaning more towards the Light. They understand the importance of preserving tradition but they don’t believe that inviting Muggleborns or Half Bloods into the fold would tarnish it in any way. I love his family for that—I never felt unheard but I also didn’t feel like I could stomp all over those different than me. Even though I could be a little shite at times they kept me grounded and away from becoming worse. I’ll never forget the way he looked at me when I called Hermione—well you know.”

            Remus nodded, not wanting to stave off Draco’s sudden courage to speak.

            “I started noticing boys in Third Year,” the blonde continued, heat rising to his cheeks. “Harry probably being the first.” _Why did I say that?_ “Blaise, however, noticed me too, and didn’t hate me. He saw me for who I was. We dated in secret for a long time.” Draco paused at that, lost in his own thoughts. How could he ever consider it just a fling? Why were all of these emotions suddenly bubbling over? Why was he feeling guilty thinking about if Harry saw him like this? He shook himself. “Anyway, he broke it off before Fifth Year began and today I found out it was because he didn’t trust me enough to not sell his family out to the Dark Lord.”

            Him saying it out loud made reality crash down around him and the tears began to fall again. He felt Remus cautiously wrap his arms around him and he leant in, feeling defeated. He was burning in embarrassment and sadness. His father would whip him if he saw him in such a state. _He’s not your father anymore, Draco,_ he chided himself, making him feel even worse.

            “Remember how I said I’ve had my own mishaps?” Remus asked.

            Draco nodded, unwilling to speak anymore.

            “I’ve been in Blaise’s shoes before and I’ve made that decision.”

            Draco snorted through his tears. “Doubt it. You’re fiercely loyal.”

            Remus frowned. “Not when it counted apparently. When Sirius was convicted I did nothing. Everyone thought I was the spy because of Fenrir. After all of the secrecy and eggshell walking around me for months, I felt betrayed that he’d actually be what his family was when I finally saw the paper. It was a mess. I never visited or requested a proper trial. I essentially let him rot there, too trapped in my own misery to see reason. Harry wouldn’t have had to be at the Dursleys if I demanded justice. Anyone could see it was Peter now.”

            “That’s totally different. It was war.”

            “This is war.”

            Draco looked down. _Oh._

            “Anyway. I’m not sure how he found it in him to forgive me before he died. I’m not sure if he ever did. I wouldn’t blame him. I fell on family association rather than who he was.”

            “He did the same for you.”

            “Things get blurred a lot don’t they?”

            Draco sighed. “It still hurts that he thought that. That he ended things because of it.”

            “Blaise was probably scared. Things are beginning to become very real. I’m not sure if you can find it in him to forgive him—Merlin knows if Sirius ever forgave me.”

            Draco frowned. “There’s a way to find that out,” he said, mostly to himself.

            Remus shook his head. “He never had a portrait made.”

            That wasn’t what Draco was talking about, however he kept it to himself until he could gather more information. No use giving hope if it would only reopen the wounds.

            “Maybe I’ll talk to him. I dunno why I’m so bent out of shape from this. I thought I moved on.”

            “The wolf can be emotional. It opens an instinctual side to you. You’ve been battling health problems most of the time since your change. This side will take some getting used to. Even if you don’t have those feelings for Blaise anymore it’s still going to hurt. It’s going be alright.”

            Draco wasn’t so sure. He was sure, however, that he was not looking forward to his Sixth Year in the slightest. Too bad it was just around the corner.

           


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TEEENY TINY update for everyone: I had to get this section out and it didn't really work as anything but a stand alone. Enjoy!

            Draco was not feeling any better throughout the final days at Grimmauld. The prospect of having to face Blaise after that last encounter was daunting to him. He had a feeling he’d be spending most of his time in the Prefect dorms if one of his only allies in Slytherin couldn’t even trust him. He shuddered to think how this year would go. At least he’d be able to see his godfather, but he honestly wondered if he was even trustworthy to begin with.

            He thought about Remus a lot and the guilt the older werewolf was carrying inside of him for not trusting Sirius in the beginning. He also considered Harry and his constant state of mourning he seemed to be in. He was sure Harry was worried about the upcoming war as well and keeping everyone safe. He just wanted to help them, a new feeling he had acquired seeing as he never really felt the need to help anyone before. He chalked it up to the wolf enhancing his emotions. 

            Hearing Harry sniffling on the balcony the night prior to leaving had Draco’s mind made up about the one thing he could actually do for Remus and Harry but he had to make sure he had access. When everyone was finally asleep that night, he crept into the tapestry room, taking special care to miss any creaky floorboards or bumping into creature. He looked at the familiar fireplace with determination, gripping his wand in bunched nerves.

            Before his resolve could crack he gave the fireplace a good wrap with his wand, muttering the spell “ _Familius_ ” holding his breath in anticipation. Nothing happened for a moment and Draco wondered if he was harboring any ill intentions towards Harry, as that would be the only way it wouldn’t let him through. His fears were alleviated when a bright light shone through the fireplace. “Brilliant,” he breathed, stepping through to the other side.

            He found himself in an empty and quite dark Black Manor. He wondered if the trace would be able to reach him here with it being empty of other wizards but he cast a quick _Lumos_ anyway. No dust was on the furniture, Draco noticed as he headed toward his final destination. The House Elves must still be tending to it with a new Heir being awakened and all. Nobody would have access to this place outside of the Lord and Heir; Draco only was able to pass because he was coming from Grimmauld Place, its only connection. He reached the garden quickly, having visited its contents quite frequently when his grandmother died years ago.

            The moonlight shining on the greenery and flora made the garden seem more ethereal. Draco looked up at its waxing shape and wondered where they would place him for his transformation at Hogwarts. He sighed wearily thinking it was probably the dungeons. He’d have to ask Remus about it before they left. 

            He walked out into the garden, his bare feet appreciating the cool stone pathway. He didn’t dare go too deeply within this late at night, unsure if he would get lost in its vast maze. Who should he call? “Mother?” he chanced, praying she would not appear. He waited a few minutes with bated breath. When she did not appear to him Draco sighed in relief. She was still alive. 

            He thought for a moment. He didn’t want to speak to Sirius—he felt that to be a sort of invasion. He’d settle for his brother though. He cleared his throat once more as he called “Regulus? Regulus Arcturus Black?” Nothing.

            Draco could kick the stone statue of a hippogriff in front of him in frustration. Why wasn’t this working? “Regulus!” he cried out once more. 

            “Do you have any patience?” he heard a very familiar voice drawl out. “I was all the way across the garden for Merlin’s sake.” There he was. Looking very much like his nephew, albeit with neater hair, Regulus Black was approaching him, a bit shiny around the edges but looking quite human and quite alive and quite young. It knocked the breath out of Draco—he forgot how low the veil was here.

            “Sorry,” he managed to say, “I thought since you’ve passed you could just appear.”

            Regulus smiled easily at him in response, making Draco weak in the knees. He seriously needed to reassess his sanity if he was finding distant relatives attractive all of a sudden, especially dead ones. He looked awfully like Harry, green eyes and all. “It’s like a halfway house here, honestly. We’re a bit more alive than dead I swear. ‘Sides no one has come looking for me in ages.” He eyed Draco, recognition shining in his features. “A Malfoy come to visit me? Oh dear what have I done now?”

            The wit took Draco aback. He always was taught that Regulus was more stoic than his brother. Maybe death loosened him up. “I’m Draco,” he said, and Regulus’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. 

            “Cissa’s kid?” Draco nodded. “You’re how old?”

            “Sixteen.”

            Regulus let out a low whistle, sitting on a bench near them. “Blimey I’ve been out awhile. Haven’t really checked on things lately though, have I? What do I owe the pleasure, cousin?"

            "Please don't call me that," Draco said, feeling more uncomfortable about his obvious feelings toward Harry. 

            "Touchy, are we?" Regulus responded with a laugh. "I must have bollocked something up.”

            “No it’s nothing to do with you directly. Please don’t be offended.”

            “It’s fine,” Regulus waved him off. “I’m not mother. I’m capable of hearing critique without running off.”

            “Talk to Walburga much?”

            Regulus grimaced. “I try to avoid her, honestly.”

            Draco laughed. “I thought you’d be thick as thieves with the stories I heard about you.”

            “Don’t believe everything you hear, Master Malfoy. I was rather Gryffindor when it came down to it, very heroic I’ll have you know.”

            “You sound like your brother.”

            “Yes, well, I’ve been able to talk with him as of late.”

            Draco nodded, becoming suddenly sullen at the thought. “That’s what I actually came here to speak to you about.”

            Regulus jumped up. “Oh you want to talk to Sirius? I can get him.”

            “No,” Draco interjected before Regulus could call him. Coming here alone was one thing, but actually seeing Harry’s father before he did would be an entirely new level of betrayal. “It’s just, I wanted your opinion on something—as well as making sure I could actually still use this place.”

            “Sons and daughters of the Black family can always use this place,” Regulus assured, sitting back down. “Well alright then, go on with your questioning.”

            “Well I have these friends as of late who knew your brother quite well.” Regulus hummed in response, looking a bit far off. _Is he even paying attention_? Draco wondered. “It’s just that they miss him quite terribly after what happened and I thought I’d take them here to visit.”

            Regulus smiled. “That’s a nice gesture. Who is it then, Remus? How would you get in with an Order member like that?”

            Draco frowned. “It’s a long story.”

            “Must be an interesting one. I did remind you I rarely get company from the living—could be quite boring.”

            “I’ll tell you some other time.”

            “Sure you will,” but Regulus was still smiling at him. The comparison to Harry was uncanny. “Well why won’t you have Remus visit then? I’m sure he’d love some company.”

            “It’s not so much Remus I’m worried about as his other friend,” Draco replied carefully, not wanting to divulge too much without Harry’s opinion.

            “Who’s that then?”

            “His godson.”

            Regulus’s eyes flashed in some sort of emotion—regret? Anxiety? “Harry, then?”

            “You know of him?”

            Regulus laughed. “Do I know who Harry Potter is, are you kidding me?”

            Draco rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I wasn’t sure when you died. I’m a little older than him is all.”

            “I died at seventeen. He was just born. I’m sure Sirius was over the moon about it.” Regulus was looking far away again. Draco wondered if he knew something he didn’t or if he was referring to Sirius being happy his brother had died.  

            “Yeah, well. He and Harry are pretty close and Harry took everything pretty hard. I’m worried that if I take him here he’ll never leave.”

            Regulus frowned. “That’s always a possibility here isn’t it.” It was a statement rather than a question. He looked as though he wanted to say something. Draco wished he would. It seemed as though he was keeping something.

            “What is it?” Draco asked.

            Regulus jumped. “Nothing, I was just weighing the options. The last time I checked in on the living Harry was quite young and emotional.”

            “He didn’t really outgrow that,” Draco said, thinking back to the last blowup.

            “It might not be a good idea right now then, especially since James can be called here too.”

            Draco had forgotten that tidbit. “I’m just worried that he’s going to go deeper into himself. He’s taking it really hard.” There was that look again. “What?”

            Regulus grimaced. “Can’t really say right now, sorry.” Draco looked ready to pounce. “Look, what month is it?”

            “August.”

            “Right, well, you’ll be returning to Hogwarts, yeah?” Draco nodded. “Wait until the winter hols to bring him ‘round. I’d wait with Remus as well. He’s not a Black anyway, I’m not sure if the Garden will be that responsive to him. Knowing Sirius, though, he’d probably figure it out.”

            “You think that’s a good idea?”

            Regulus smiled in reassurance. “Yes, in fact I do. Gryffindors take a while to cool off; he might be more willing to deal with this then.”

            “He’s going to be so cross at me for not telling him sooner.”

            “He has all the time in the world to visit—he’ll survive.”

            Draco wasn’t so sure about that. Nevertheless, he said his thanks and goodbyes to Regulus and headed back into Grimmauld Place, happy to know that the fireplace still worked at any rate. The following morning, they all left for Hogwarts, Harry darkly trudging along with everyone. This was going to be difficult.


	9. Chapter 9

Draco, Hermione, Ron, and Harry all congregated in the same compartment once they boarded the train. The Auror guard hadn’t quite left the unlikely quad, disguised as students strolling the compartments. Draco couldn’t decide whether he should remain with the Golden Trio—he might attract a myriad of suspicion from his fellow Slytherins if they saw him with them. Hermione, perhaps intuitively understanding his concerns (or perhaps realizing Harry wouldn’t want people looking at _him_ ), shut the blinds as soon as they got settled, keeping prying eyes away from the unlikely quad.

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry said, shoulders slumping in relief. Of course the witch wouldn’t be considering Draco’s concerns. How silly of him to think so.

“Of course,” she responded in surprise, not used to Harry offering anything near gratefulness after the past few months. “I wouldn’t want you or Malfoy on guard the whole time.”

Draco looked up at that. “Thanks, Granger,” he said.

She nodded at him curtly in response, not meeting his eyes. The two have never made amends, to which Draco was at fault. He’d have to find a way to ignore his pride and apologize to her at some point.

The majority of the train ride was quiet, with Ron every so often making light conversation with Harry about nonconfrontational things—Quidditch, who the new Defense professor would be—anything to keep Potter from brooding. It was a clever plan for Weasley, who, to Draco, never seemed to have much forethought about anything.

Everything was fine until Draco, Ron, and Hermione needed to leave for the Prefects meeting. “Do you guys really have to go?” Harry asked.

Hermione frowned. ‘Yes, sorry.”

Harry matched her frown—it looked strange on Sirius’s face. “Fine.’

“Mate, it won’t be that long,” Ron said, trying to appease him.

“It’s fine—just leave the curtains closed.”

When the opened the door they discovered Blaise on the other side, casually strolling down the corridor. When he saw them all he grinned. ‘I knew you were Potter,’ he said triumphantly, obviously putting two and two together regarding who was in the room.

_This is bad,_ thought Draco.

Everyone turned to Harry in anticipation of his reaction. None came. Instead, he calmly closed the door, leaving everyone outside.

Ron fixed a glare on Blaise. “Really, Zabini?”

Blaise shrugged. “What? Everyone was going to find out tonight anyway.”

“Just come off it, okay Blaise?” Draco said, not really wanting to interact at all, still stinging from their last conversation.

Blaise sighed. “Fine. I’m not out to get him or anything. He’s a decent bloke.” Blaise’s voice had taken on a faraway quality reminiscent of their conversations of who was fit and who wasn’t back in the dorms.

“Get that out of your mind right now,” Draco replied in clipped tones.

Blaise held his hands up in defense. “No worries, mate. Harry was always off limits with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked, suddenly turning his glare towards Draco.

“Nothing. Let’s just go. Don’t bother him, Blaise.”

Draco pulled the two Gryffindors away and towards the meeting. He couldn’t believe Blaise already. He had to know that comment would cause suspicion. Draco was seeing red.

“I hope he doesn’t bother Harry,” Ron said, looking over his shoulder to where they left the other Slytherin. “Wouldn’t want the train to explode from accidental magic.”

Draco nodded in agreement. Confrontation with Harry was a volatile act these days; sometimes objects would shake around him during moments of high emotional stress. Draco recalled a calmer day during the summer when the Black Heir was working on homework in deep concentration—the desk, chair, as well as Potter himself were levitated about 4 feet in the air. Harry had definitely come into his full powers and it was setting itself loose upon the world. Draco wondered if they’d put a dampner on him for classes.

“What was he talking about Harry being off limits?” Hermione asked.

Draco’s mouth formed a thin line. “Who knows? I never really concerned myself with Potter before Grimmauld,” he replied, ignoring the voice in his head calling him a liar. Even Ron snorted, seeing right through him.

“Sure, Malfoy,” he said.

They had arrived at the meeting, thankfully, saving Draco from any further embarrassment.

It was all quite boring.

Pansy had been staring Draco down the entire meeting, obviously trying to grab his attention. He did his best to ignore her but he knew he’d have to talk to her eventually. He prayed to Merlin that it wasn’t tonight on the train. He felt spent the way it was, worrying about Zabini’s claws digging into an emotionally unstable Harry.

Luckily for him, Draco and Hermione were paired for rounds, leaving Ron to fend for himself with Pansy. Oddly, Ron didn’t make a fuss. In fact, the duo seemed to be working as a unit of protection for Draco. Was this friendship?

The unlikely pair were mostly quiet as they patrolled the corridors. Nobody usually acted up on the train—everyone was too excited to return to school.

If Draco ever had a moment to apologize, this was it. He took a deep breath. _Don’t be stupid about it,_ he thought, _be kind for once in your life._ “Hey, Granger?”

Hermione started next to him, not expecting to make much conversation during their rounds. “Yes, Malfoy?” she returned, brown eyes wide in anticipation.

Draco swallowed nervously. _You are not your father; let her know that._ “I just wanted to say sorry.”

Hermione made a startled noise at first, clearly not expecting an apology from him. “Sorry?” she said.

Draco nodded, eyes steeled in determination. “I have been a complete wanker before this summer to you and your friends, but especially to you.” She was staring hard at Draco now, seemingly in disbelief. At the awkward silence, Draco added, “In my defense, I grew up with a Death Eater recounting nonsense about glory days and blood traitors and didn’t encounter any semblance of difference until our first year.”

Hermione snorted, finally responding in some way. “You didn’t seem to learn from those differences.”

“No, I did,” Draco replied, “startlingly so. I couldn’t believe a Muggleborn was besting me in class; it shook my foundational knowledge of the world. I began to question everything.” _Great job, Draco, you really messed this one up._

“Sorry if I’m not buying this but you didn’t seem to question anything—in fact I recall slurs being thrown my way.”

Draco frowned. “I know. I let my jealousy come out in very negative ways. Harry’s refusal of friendship put a target on both your and Weasley’s backs. I was a spiteful child.”

“I don’t think you understood that difference doesn’t mean inferiority until you became different yourself.”

Draco shrugged. “It might not have come into full view until then, but watching my Dad torture innocent people really solidified the idea for me before that.” Hermione blanched in response, obviously regretting some of the bitingness in her tone. Draco shoved his self-protecting nature aside in favor of some Hufflepuff humbleness. “I’m not trying to justify my actions towards you—they were completely wrong and I made you feel like an outcast when you should have felt special. I just want to tell you that I’m learning and that I’m working to be better. I’m sorry, Hermione.”

Hermione stared at him for a long minute. “I finally see what he sees in you,” she said, smiling a little.

It was Draco’s turn to start. “What?”

“You’re not as cold as you let on, Malfoy; you care about people.”

“I just don’t like seeing injustice and I’m not too proud to admit when I’ve done someone wrong.”

“Very Ravenclaw.”

“I always thought I’d fit in there.”

Hermione shook her head. “This is getting weirder by the second.”

“This entire summer has been weird.”

“Thank you for apologizing,” Hermione said, meeting his eyes, “it means a lot to hear you own up to those things.”

Draco gave a tentative smile in response, feeling a bit warm inside. Being more in touch with his emotions since become a werewolf was unsettling.

Maybe he could overcome his darkness after all. There might be hope for him yet.

~Counterpoint: Harry’s perspective~

The misery inside of Harry seemed to be overtaking him. He hated any surface that gave off any sort of reflection—the glossy table they were sat around on the Hogwarts Express was mocking him with Sirius’s face. It was driving him mad.

Ron was doing his best to distract him, able to pick up the gloom radiating off of him. Ron was a good friend. Harry felt badly for blowing up at him all summer—his version of mourning truly was explosive.

When they began to leave for their Prefects meeting Harry recalled his actions over the summer, trying not to fuss too badly about it. He needed to learn to school his emotions—his new power acted like accidental magic, causing mayhem every time he became too upset. He couldn’t have that occurring at school. When he saw Blaise he almost lost it.

Quietly closing the door was about all he could do before he began to feel as though his chest was closing in on him. Harry was relying on a quiet train ride to get him through until the holidays; Blaise outing him was a shock. He heard an angry tone of Draco and a stomping away but his heart was pounding so hard in his ears he couldn’t hear anything. _Please go away,_ he willed, but knew that the Slytherin wouldn’t give up so easily.

A quiet knock was heard on the door. “Please go away,” Harry voiced this time, trying to get a grip on his emotions.

“I just want to apologize,” he heard Blaise say on the other side of the door.

Harry frowned. What choice did he really have? “Fine.”

Blaise was suddenly in the compartment with him, sitting opposite the Black Heir. “Hey.” He smiled nervously at him.

“Hi.”

“I’m not going to make a scene about your identity, you know. My excitement had more to do with solving the puzzle of the summer rather than drawing attention to you.”

Harry’s frowned remained. “I just thought I had the train ride to be normal.”

“Potter, you’ve never been normal.”

Harry snorted at that. “Okay; my normal then.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll have your peace. I’m not about to run up and down the train.”

“I think I’ve misunderstood Slytherins for a very long time.”

Blaise let out a joyous laugh; it sounded like bells to Harry. He took notice of how a genuine smile on the boy’s face changed his features, making him look less posh and more human. “Not all evil, are we?”

“I suppose not. Never thought I’d think of Draco as non-evil,” Harry mused.

Blaise suddenly sobered. “How is he doing?” he asked.

Harry side-eyed him, not willing to be placed in the middle of the two. “He’s fine.”

“You’ve grown close.”

“We’ve been roommates all summer. He’s had to put up with a lot,” he explained.

“I suppose being dragged out to nightclubs in the middle of the night was not on Draco’s summer agenda.”

Harry grimaced at that. “I needed to blow off steam. I was losing it holed up with everyone.”

“Oh I remember, Antares.” Blaise’s eyes crinkled in humor.

Harry blanched, the embarrassment of his actions finally crashing down around him with the sound of his made up identity.

“I’m surprised you’re not running with the new name. Would buy you some privacy from being _The Chosen One_.” Blaise emphasized the title the media has given Harry with a staged whisper of false enchantment.

“I tried. I got shot down. Can’t fool the magical registry.”

“Shame.” Harry nodded in response. Blaise sobered once more. “He’s doing alright? I feel bad about the last time I spoke to him.”

Harry sighed. “Look. I don’t know what happened between the two of you; frankly, I try very hard not to involve myself in Slytherin business. I think you need to give him his space. He was obviously upset the last time you two spoke.”

Blaise frowned at that. “He’s more sensitive than he lets on. I didn’t think my rationale would hurt him like that.”

Harry shrugged. “People are people,” he offered.

Blaise nodded. “You think he’ll forgive me?”

Harry rubbed his face, suddenly very tired. “I’m not a mind reader, Blaise.”

“Didn’t I tell you to piss off?” Suddenly, Draco was back, Hermione in tow. It wasn’t the first time Harry found himself thankful for the blonde. It was unsettling.

Blaise stood. “I was just apologizing, Draco,” he said. “No need to be so cold.”

The Black Heir could see Draco bristle, eyes shining as if the full moon were near. “Get out.”

“I was just leaving.” Blaise looked toward Harry. “Don’t worry—they’ll get bored of this new development in a week. It all blows over, Antares.”

Draco became more visibly agitated at the nickname. Harry gave a timid smile in thanks. “See you around, Zabini.”

He was gone.

“Thank Merlin Ron wasn’t here for that, he’d probably explode,” Hermione said in relief.

Harry laughed at the thought. “Being cordial with two Slytherins would have him committing me to St. Mungo’s.”

Draco shook his head. If Blaise thought he was going to become some new ally he had another thing coming. On the other hand, getting Harry to laugh seemed to be of import, especially with the rough weeks to come. Nothing was ever going to be easy for Draco, was it?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay (as per usual). School has resumed.


	10. Chapter 10

Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione boarded the same carriage on the way to Hogwarts. Draco jumped involuntarily, as he now did, when he saw the Thestrals. He first saw them at the midpoint of Fifth Year, having witnessed multiple deaths over the winter holiday. He remembered screaming and gripping onto Blaise’s arm, startled by their leathery forms. Blaise had been kind to Draco then, gently helping him into the carriage and explaining what had happened. Blaise had always seen them: he saw his grandfather die when he was young. Draco couldn’t shake his weariness toward the creatures. Harry, on the other hand, patted them like they were old friends before boarding. Draco realized he must have been seeing them for awhile, witnessing Cedric Diggory’s death in Fourth Year. It saddened him to realize this, having been in his comfortable bubble even then. He certainly had changed in a short amount of time.

“Are you nervous?” Harry asked him quietly when they were comfortably seated.

Draco frowned. “Shouldn’t I be asking that to you, seeing as you have a new face and all?” he replied. Ron and Hermione looked on warily, probably thinking Draco was poking a bear.

Harry gave a small smile instead of blowing up in response. ‘Nah. I’m just tired,” he explained, “I know how it’s going to go and I am very much exhausted by it.”

Draco nodded. “I know what you mean.”

“Well I, for one, can’t wait to eat,” said Ron, earning a laugh from Hermione.

The rest of the ride was quiet. Draco was dreading having to separate from the Golden Trio, so much so that he begun to question his sanity. This was some rare form of Stockholm Syndrome if he ever saw it. He needed to get a grip; being soft in front of Slytherins was suicide.

When they did arrive, they broke away quickly, most likely to save Draco enough face as he could. He couldn’t help feeling naked without the Gryffindors: danger seemed to be everywhere. He mentally shook himself. This was Hogwarts. It was supposed to be the safest place in Britain. He needed to get a grip.

He sat himself at the end of the Slytherin table, closest to the professors. He looked at the table, willing himself to see Remus there, wishing he didn’t resign back in Third Year. He needed him for this first school transformation, yet he knew he wouldn’t be there. Instead, he saw Horace Slughorn, his father’s Potions Master. _How odd._

Blaise sat next to him. Draco, while annoyed, was happy that it wasn’t Pansy or Theo. Crabbe and Goyle were avoiding eye contact with him towards the middle of the table. Draco felt sadness again: he wouldn’t be able to talk to them, would he? They probably were warned against it. Nobody sat across from him—so he was to be a pariah. No matter, he thought, he’d just keep his head down and look forward to a quiet semester. His resignation was short lived when Pansy sat across from him. “Who’s that boy at the Gryffindor table? Looks like a Black,” she said.

He glanced at Harry, who he had realized was currently subject to intense staring and whispering from everyone around him. He looked like a statue, schooling his features into blank passivity as if he were trained to do so. He looked very much like his uncle’s portrait at the moment, stone faced and disinterested. Draco thought about Regulus and his advice: he hoped that Harry wasn’t completely miserable by Christmas.

“I dunno,” he responded before Blaise could speak up, glancing his way.

“Why would a Black be in red and gold? Was he already sorted?”

Draco shrugged.

Meanwhile, at the Gryffindor table, Harry was attempting to keep a low profile to no avail. He schooled his features, but inside he was a nervous wreck. He didn’t particularly feel like being spoken to. Everyone was whispering around him.

“Who is that?”

“Is that a Black?”

“Was he sorted, then?”

“Where’s Harry?”

Suddenly, Harry was face to face with McGonagal. “A word, if you will,” she said.

Harry stood. “Sure, Professor.” He caught Draco’s eyes as he left the hall—he seemed nervous. He gave him a small nod as if to show he was fine. It didn’t seem to help.

She led Harry out of the hall and into a small corridor. “How are you doing?” she asked, eyes searching Harry’s for any hint of how he was feeling.

Harry was struck—he tried to keep his emotions at bay. He wasn’t expecting that question from her, generally one for a stiff upper lip. He chose his words carefully as he replied, “I’m doing as best as I can, given the circumstances. Thank you for asking, ma’am.”

McGonagal looked at him as if she saw a ghost. Harry was getting used to that look but it didn’t make him any less weary about it. Would his face or voice ever belong to him, he wondered. “I was hoping you would be able to offer your preference as to how you would like to be addressed.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. He also wasn’t expected that. “What are you talking about?”

“You are now listed as Potter-Black under the registry, due to the fact that you have two fathers.”

“Yeah, Remus told me,” he said, frowning.

“Would you like to be addressed that way, or would you prefer Potter or Black?’

“I have a choice in this?” he asked, surprised after his conversation with Dumbledore just a few short weeks ago.

“Of course.”

Harry thought about it. “I’m not sure what I should do, here.” He felt so lost. He wanted to honor both of his fathers, but he didn’t want to be bothered with gossip surrounding him. If he could delay that at all, he would.

“Might I suggest something?” Professor McGonagal asked. Harry nodded. “You may not be able to hold off the rumour mill very long, but by going by Black it might buy you some time. The professors certainly would have an easier time not slipping up. You look very much like-“

“My uncle, I know.” Harry sighed. “Black is fine. Apologies if I don’t respond right away; haven’t trained myself to consider myself Mr. Black yet.”

McGonagal gave a wry smile. “A Potter and Black in one; I should’ve known with you, Harry.”

Harry smiled back, feeling a little better at that comment. “Me too, probably.”

He was also feeling a bit better to know he could keep up the charade a little longer, at least outside of his dorm. He’d undeniably have to tell Seamus, Dean, and Neville tonight. They wouldn’t be able to stop questioning him otherwise. He wondered if blood oaths were too extreme to get them to keep quiet; Seamus could never keep his mouth shut.

He returned back to the feast in time for the sorting, which was noneventful. Dumbledore announced Slughorn as the new Potions professor to the surprise of everyone, with Professor Snape finally taking up the post of Defense. Harry was glad to hear whispers erupt about something else besides himself for the first time all night. He saw Draco stare at Snape at the announcement. Snape avoided his look. _Some godfather_ , Harry thought bitterly. He found himself angry at the professor for failing Draco last summer. He had told him of what happened late one night. Harry was furious.

“You’re shaking your goblet,” Hermione warned quietly. Harry looked at the table—so he was. He took a deep breath, willing the goblet to stop shaking. It shattered instead, bringing the attention back on him for a moment. Seamus looked on in alarm.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

The looks lingered until Dumbledore began speaking again. “A new rule this year is for our Prefects,” he said. “To better aid our school, all Prefects Sixth Year and above will be asked to use only the Prefects’ dorm for their sleeping quarters. If there is an emergency during the night, we will be better able to reach you this way. There will be a special way to access these from your respective Common Rooms.’

Harry’s heart sank. He was going to be alone in the dorm to fend for himself. He looked at Ron, who looked back at him in confusion and concern.

“This isn’t fair,” Ron said.

Hermione frowned. “I can see where he’s coming from,” she said, “what happens if we need to respond quickly? It makes sense.”

Of course Hermione would agree with Dumbledore. Harry was doomed.

Draco took the news pretty well. He had a sneaking suspicion Dumbledore was doing this to protect him, fully aware of what being disowned would do to his reputation with the Slytherins. At least he wouldn’t need to come up with a bogus excuse as to why he was avoiding the dorms.

That night, he and Ron were quietly discussing what to do about Harry in Draco’s room. Being a Prefect allotted private quarters: the dorm was essentially a long hallway with sets of doors leading off to single rooms equipped with a four poster, a desk, and a window. It was quite nice and quite private, exactly what the two needed to not arise too much suspicion speaking to one another.

“This is so frustrating,” Ron said, resting his head on the wall as he leaned back in the chair. Draco sat opposite from him on his four poster, legs swinging anxiously. This was weird for him; he and Ron avoided each other mostly. To have this one on one time was almost too much for his nerves.

“It’s not so bad, Weasley,” Draco responded evenly.

“I meant for Harry.”  


Ah. “I’m sure he’s not pleased,” Draco agreed.

“I gave him the password for the Prefects’ quarters in case he needs anything. I have a feeling he’d knock on your door before mine.”

Draco was taken aback by his statement. “He’s your best mate.”

“I’m not saying he isn’t.” Ron shifted uncomfortably, obviously getting ready to say something he was unsure of. “You’ve obviously grown close this summer…”

Draco quirked an eyebrow. He wasn’t ready to discuss his sexuality with a Gryffindor, much less a Weasley—at least not the male ones. He had grown to like Ginny over the summer. She was the only one besides Harry that didn’t walk on eggshells around him. And she was funny and not afraid to call him on his bullshit. They were really getting on towards the end of the summer. He wondered if they’d stay friends through all of this. He chose to answer Ron strategically. “We’re both fucked up, Weasley. Mentally unstable people tend to find each other one way or another.”

Ron frowned. “No. Harry’s always been a bit fascinated with you, even before this whole angsty turn of events.”

“Potter has always been angsty—it’s just more directed now.”

Ron lifted a hand in defense. “Regardless. You’ve been there for him all summer and even though it makes little to no sense to me as to why he’d fall for someone who tormented him for years—even during said tormenting—you’re obviously who he needs to be around right now.”

Draco was taken aback once again, this time by Ron’s brashness. “We’re cousins.”

Ron blinked. “We’re all cousins.”

The Malfoy Heir laughed at that. Purebloods were pretty much interrelated, weren’t they? Blood purity at the expense of sanity. “Still. Potter doesn’t come from here. I’m sure he isn’t interested.” Draco decided to tuck the memory of Harry trying to kiss him deep away. Obviously, it was a drunken moment of desperation and should not be counted as evidentiary of any affections.

Ron rolled his eyes. “You two are hopeless. At any rate, if he comes knocking, don’t be surprised.”

“We’ll see. I’m going to try and rest. We’ll continue Potter Watch tomorrow, yeah?” Draco said, suddenly very tired.

Ron stood. “Sure, Malfoy.” As he headed to the door, he stopped. “By the way, Hermione said you apologized to her.”

Draco looked up. “Yeah,” was all he could say. Did he do something wrong? Was Ron going to punch him? He knew he had a temper.

Instead, the Weasley surprised him again. “That was cool of you. It went a long way for her, and me too. Thanks.”

Draco blinked in shock. He could smell the anxiety rolling off of Weasley—it was obviously difficult for him to say that. Draco nodded. “I’m glad she gave me the opportunity to do so.” He took a deep breath. “I’m trying to be better.”

“We’ve noticed.” Ron smiled. Draco chanced one back, but he felt himself grimace instead. “See you, Malfoy.”

“Bye.”

Draco was not his father. Neither was Ron.

Harry meanwhile was trying his best not to let his magic loose on his dorm. He felt their stares on the back of his head when they saw that his trunk was in its usual place. It still clearly said H.J. Potter, he noticed. They seemed to notice too. When he reached into his trunk for his pajamas Seamus spoke: “What are you doing? That’s Harry’s trunk.”

Harry sighed. “It’s my trunk, actually.” He pulled out a pair of his father’s joggers and an old Ramones tshirt. He hadn’t really updated his sleepwear to fit his new height, settling for Sirius’s old wear. He pulled out his copy of the Odyssey as well, setting it on his bed.

His three dormmates looked between one another in confusion. “Funny joke, mate,” Neville chanced, “but this is our friend’s trunk. He’s obviously late but since his trunk is here, he’ll be coming along. You also shouldn’t be taking things out of it.”

Harry looked at Neville, who was now edging closer to him. He looked like he was losing his nerve. Harry stood up straight, feeling his full height as he towered a bit over Neville now. “I told you. It’s my trunk.” Neville narrowed his eyes, obviously not believing him. Harry sighed. _Here we go_ , he thought. He pushed his too long bangs to the side to show his scar still prominently resting on the right side of his forehead. They all gasped. They then began speaking at once.

“Why didn’t you tell us at the feast?”

“Harry?”

“What the bloody hell happened to you?”

He sat on his four-poster, rubbing his face tiredly. “It’s a bit complicated,” he said.

“Were you cursed?” Dean asked.

“A long time ago sort of.”

“You look just like Sirius Black, mate,” said Neville.

Harry frowned. “Yeah.”

“What are you saying?”

Harry looked at Neville. “It’s complicated.”

Seamus turned to rummage in his trunk, pulling out a bottle of Firewhiskey. “We have time.”

Harry grinned, his old face shining through for a moment. “I knew I missed you guys for a reason.”

The night was set from there. Once Harry was drunk enough, he regaled them with the summer’s events, carefully editing out the parts with Draco. The whiskey had loosened his tongue, making it easier for him to admit out loud his new heritage to people other than his best friends. They swore not to spread it around; Harry wasn’t sure how much he trusted that. At the end of the night when the three were sleeping, Harry snuck out, making his way to the Prefect dorm.

He stopped at Draco’s door, frowning. He shouldn’t bother him, he thought. He was so tired, though, and he knew he’d probably let him in. He glanced over at Ron’s door. He couldn’t show up drunk in Ron’s bed—he’d be cross at him. He swallowed his nerves and chanced a knock.

There wasn’t an immediate answer. Harry knocked louder this time. “Hey, wolf boy,” he whispered loudly. That seemed to illicit a response.

Draco wrenched the door open. “Do you have a death wish, Potter?”

Harry gave a lopsided grin in response, leaning against the doorframe. “Please, only your extra-sensitive hearing could’ve heard that.”

Draco rolled his eyes, nonplussed. “You’re louder than you think. You’re drunk, Potter.”

Harry tutted. “It’s Black now, actually.”

“Oh you decided to be Antares against the Headmaster’s wishes, then?” Draco crossed his arms, not thrilled to be dealing with a drunk Harry once again. He thought they put that behind them.

“Nope—just Harrison.”

“Go to bed, Harrison.”

Harry’s grin faded, suddenly looking forlorn. “Can I come in?” he asked.

Draco’s lips formed a thin line, remembering Ron’s words. “I dunno if that’s a good idea, Harry.”

Harry blinked at the use of his name. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that I’m not used to sleeping alone.”

“You have Longbotton, Finnagin and Thomas. You aren’t alone.”

Harry looked down. “You know what I mean.”

Draco sighed, unable to resist the sad Potter face. “Fine. But only for tonight.”

Harry hugged Draco suddenly. He was handsy when he was drunk. “Thank you.”

The two settled into bed together, Draco sidling up to the furthest corner, with little success. Harry hesitantly curled up against him, sending chills up the werewolf’s spine. “Thanks, Draco,” he whispered.

Draco hummed in response. “Good night.”

“Night.”

Draco thought back to his and Weasley’s conversation, unable to help himself from being pleased that the redhead was right.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's been some time: I was finishing the year up at school and I got married!
> 
> Quick warning about the chapter and the way the plot is going to go: very rollercoaster like with ups and downs and alcohol. It will get worse before we get to the garden. The next chapter will be pretty intense. 
> 
> As always thank you for reading!

After that first night of solace with Draco, Harry tried to squash his feelings down to no avail. He snuck out in the morning before Draco could wake up and realize that he had, indeed, spent the night curled up against him: Harry couldn’t face the rejection right now. Not like that night at the club.

He knew how Draco felt about him if that drunken night was any indication, so he tried to mask his feelings by stone-facing it through the first few weeks of school. He would only bother Draco if absolutely necessary. He’d let the ex-Malfoy Heir get his bearings with his housemates in peace.

It was like a living nightmare honestly.

Everything associated with Hogwarts seemed to be too difficult for Harry to bear. He thought going back to school would serve as a welcome distraction but being referred to as Mr. Black would shake him back to the harsh reality of his situation. He wished he would have just went by his actual name instead of trying to throw suspecting students off of his trail. They weren’t dumb: a new name wouldn’t keep them from the truth for long, especially when it looked as though Harry Potter was missing.

One morning, he, Ron, and Hermione were headed to a double Defense lesson and Harry just couldn’t take it. He couldn’t keep pretending to not know Draco and 3 hours with the Slytherins would drive him insane. Why had he signed up for this level: he knew he probably wouldn’t make it out of the war alive so why should he be prepping for a career?

“Go on ahead, I need to use the loo,” Harry said. Hermione’s eyes narrowed.

“You aren’t skipping out again are you?” she asked. “You can’t keep doing that, Professor Snape is going to be cross.”

Harry grimaced. “I’m not, I just need a minute. I’ll be there, we’ve got 15 minutes.”

Hermione looked like she wanted to say more but Ron took her arm. “It’s fine, ‘Mione,” he said gently. His tone was not so kind toward Harry. “We’ll see you there,” the redhead said pointedly. Harry just nodded and they went on ahead.

Once the rest of the students heading to class passed by he sat upon on of the large windowsills, drawing his knees up to his chest and closing his eyes. _Breathe Harry_ , he willed to himself. He really missed Remus at times like this.

“Well don’t you looked chuffed,” a snide voice remarked. Harry opened his eyes to be met with Snape’s obsidian stare. He was reminded of their failed Occlumency lessons and felt angry at both himself and his professor for failing Sirius. “I hope you’re not planning to sit out class _again,_ Mr. Black. Your potions work is dismal but you shouldn’t be slipping this far behind in Defense so early. You did receive an O, did you not?”

“What do you care?” Harry bit back, not even caring that he was sassing a Professor. He was still irate at the man for harming Draco.

“ _Tone,_ Black.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry, sir,” Snape corrected.

Harry snorted in derision. “You don’t deserve to be called sir after what you put him through.”

Snape bristled at that. “What are you on about now, Potter?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at his surname. He must have cut Snape with that remark. “You delivered him to certain death. How could you?”

Snape’s mouth formed a thin line and his eyes narrowed. “You would be wise to not speak about things you know nothing about.” The Potions Master was looking uncomfortable with the subject matter.

“You hurt him,” Harry continued, ignoring his Professor’s words. “He thinks he’s a monster now because of you. You were supposed to protect him and now you won’t even look at him. It makes me sick.” Harry’s magic was going wild around him now. The wind was picking up indoors: Snape seemed to notice and changed his tone quickly.

“Why don’t we take a walk, Mr. Black?” he suggested.

“That’s not my name.” The wind was getting stronger.

“Harry, then.” Snape was obviously well-versed in calming dramatic teen magic antics. His voice was almost gentle with Harry, even after his biting remarks towards the man. Snape was working his best to deescalate the situation. “I forgot something in my office, why don’t we head back that way and you can tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t fancy going anywhere with you, who knows what will happen to me?”

“This isn’t a request, Harry,” Snape pressed. “Come down from there and let’s go.”

Harry looked almost feral with the wind whipping around him. His green eyes were shining so brightly they were almost glowing.

“Do you really want to make a scene right now? Late arrivers will be in the hallway at any moment.”

Harry closed his eyes as he realized the effects of his emotional outburst. He counted to ten in his head but couldn’t keep it inside of him. He was out of control. “I can’t stop it,” he said panicked. The wind was picking up more and more and the window pane began to shake.

Severus hadn’t ever seen this level of power coming from a newly of-age wizard before. This was out of his hands and it was frightening. “Just breathe, Harry. Push it away. I apologize for feeding into it.”

“I can’t!” Harry himself was shaking now with tears. “I can’t even get angry without losing control. Why can’t I do anything right anymore?” The torches in the hall were now aflame. “I killed my dad! I can’t even stick up for my friends properly!” This was a full meltdown and Snape was on the receiving end of it.

Luckily, Draco was the sole late arriver coming down the hallway. When he saw what was happening he rushed toward the Black Heir, appearances and danger be damned.

Draco pushed past his godfather who obviously didn’t know what to do with the situation and pulled Harry into his arms and off of the sill. He refused to admit to himself how nice it felt after a few weeks of little to no contact with the Black Heir and focused on calming him down instead. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s alright.” Harry, terrified and wild, dissolved into sobs as he buried his face into the crook of Draco’s neck, the flames growing larger. “I got you,” Draco murmured against unruly hair, rubbing circles into Harry’s back. He looked at Snape. “What did you do?”

“Me?” Snape scoffed. “I’m not the one creating tornadoes in the hallways.”

“Uncle Sev, please,” Draco pushed, not caring that they were in school and he wasn’t to call his godfather by that name here. Harry’s tornado was quieting down slowly as he continued to sob into the blonde’s arms. What a mess this was.

Severus softened at the name. “He was telling me off about you and it got out of control.”

Ah. He knew Harry was still angry about that while Draco had been trying to let go his feelings of hurt towards Snape. It got him out one way or the other, didn’t it? Draco chose to ignore the guilty look his godfather was sending his way. “Can we be excused from class? I need to take him to the Hospital Wing once this settles down. I seem to be the only thing anchoring him at the moment.”

Class. Snape seemed to shake himself out of the moment and into real time again. “Yes. Will you stop in for tea after dinner?” That surprised Draco and he looked up from an unsettled Harry in shock. “Although he certainly has an attitude problem, Potter is right to be angry with me. I want to catch up.”

Draco looked down. Was he ready for that? “I’ll think about it.”

Severus nodded. “Make sure he gets seen by Pomfrey.” He headed towards class.

Harry was finally settling down enough to realize the full extent of what happened. He detached himself from Draco and sat against the wall. “Sorry.” He wiped his face with his robe sleeve. He buried his face in his hands. “That was so embarrassing.”

Draco sat next to him, gently pulling Harry’s hands away from his face, not letting go of the one nearest his as he got settled. Harry flushed but didn’t let go. “To be fair, you haven’t really cried about your situation. You were headed towards a meltdown, regardless of what set it off.”

Draco was right. All Harry had really done was drown his sorrows in clubbing and anger. He never got to cry it out. “I was just so _mad_ at him. He has a remark for everything and I couldn’t take the smugness any longer.” He sighed. “I lost it. I have the Black family madness, don’t I?”

“You haven’t lost it. You’ve just been holding a lot in.” Draco nudged him gently with his shoulder. “It’s a lot to take on.”

“I wanted him to realize what he had done. And then it turned into something else entirely.”

“Have you been confiding in anyone about what you’re going through? I haven’t really seen you in a few weeks outside of class.”

Harry frowned and looked at Draco. “I didn’t want to bother you. You have a lot going on, too. I didn’t want to make it harder for you with the Slytherins.”

Draco let out a small laugh. “Nothing could make it harder for me with the Slytherins right now. At least the mini-Eaters. Pansy and Blaise have been alright.”

“Have you made amends with him, then? He seemed worried about you.”

It was Draco’s turn to frown. “We haven’t really talked about it. He just helps separate me from Theo during meals really.”

“You could always sit at the Gryffindor table.”

“That would go great. I’m sure Weasley would be thrilled.” Draco refused to admit that he and Ron had nightly meetings about all sorts of things, starting with protecting Harry and ending with friendly chess matches. He didn’t want Harry knowing just how worried everyone has been about him, so much so that it was ending a blood feud.

“You and Gin get on.”

“She hasn’t really given me the time of day since we got back.” Another lie. “Anyway, I thought this was about you. You can talk to me, you know. We’re sort of friends now, right?” Draco tried to push down insecure feelings stemming from First Year rejections.

Harry gave a small smile, thank Merlin. “Yeah, I guess we are, aren’t we? I was afraid to ruin anything for you here.”

“Already ruined, Potter,” Draco replied in jest. “I have a disownment and a furry little problem that I’m sure everyone will catch onto eventually.”

Harry snorted. “Furry little problem.” It was nice to hear him laugh for a change. They sat in comfortable silence for awhile, Draco drawing small circles on Harry’s hand with his thumb.

“I told Professor Snape I’d take you to the Hospital Wing to get you sorted,” Draco commented.

Harry looked up at him, suddenly uncomfortable. “Why would I need to go there? It’s just accidental magic.”

Draco gave Harry a sideways glance before continuing. He was well aware that a new meltdown could be imminent. “Your magic has been a bit unruly as of late and it’s tied to your emotions. I think you need a Healer’s help to get some control over it.”

Harry pulled his hand away. “I don’t need a Healer, Draco. I just finally had a meltdown over my situation like you said.” Harry drew his knees up to his chest, resting his head on his knees. “I’m so tired.”

“You did just create a storm in the hallway,” Draco remarked, but didn’t let it go. “The magic incidents have been occurring frequently and you know that. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m _fine,_ Draco. I don’t need a Healer. I’m going to work on it on my own. Besides, Madame Pomfrey probably wouldn’t let me leave without a dampner and I don’t want that. It’ll make me feel all foggy.” Draco frowned. “Would you stop worrying? It’s going to be alright. I’ve got you don’t I?”

Draco smiled at that. “Alright. But if you don’t get a handle on it soon a Professor is going to march you down to the Hospital Wing and you won’t have a choice.”

Harry grinned at him, shining through Sirius’s face. It never ceased to take Draco’s breath away.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get a handle on it.”

Harry did not get a handle on it.

Harry was on a constant bender, instead, it would seem.

The days filled with near unbearable classes coupled with the whispers and stares surrounding him at all times has caused his nights to be reserved for scrounging for alcohol, potions, or other vices that would allow him to forget himself for awhile. He’d wake impossibly hungover and irritable, taking way too long in the showers, and was generally late to breakfast if he showed up at all.

Students were beginning to put the pieces together as to who he was. He stuck by Hermione and Ron throughout the day, which was most likely the first tip off. Instead of confirming or denying their accusations, he just felt himself sinking further into the depths as he remained silent.

He would read Sirius’s battered copy of The Odyssey in study halls, identifying with the main character’s quest for home. Harry never really felt at home anywhere; at least Odysseus had a place to long for. Not even Hogwarts seemed welcoming anymore.

He couldn’t shake the despair he held about the death of Sirius. It seemed to be consuming him.

There were nights that he felt he couldn’t breathe properly. These nights generally included accidentally catching himself in the mirror and being startled by Sirius staring back at him. It felt as though there was something standing on his throat. It was enough to make his skin crawl involuntarily. Those nights, he would knock on Draco or Ron’s door after imbibing with something from Seamus’s stash, not daring to chance it with Hermione. Most of the time they let him in; other times they weren’t so welcoming.

Ron would get very cross with him at times, especially if he was doing more than drinking.

“Please, Harry,” he said, clearly exasperated one night. Harry’s eyes were bloodshot from smoking something and was laying on Ron’s four-poster attempting to stop all of the loose objects in the room from shaking.

“I’m trying,” he replied, curling up into the fetal position. The shaking continued.

Ron sat at the edge of his bed. He sighed heavily at the sight of a once strong Harry clearly defeated and out of control. “You’re not trying very hard, mate.”

Harry remembered his conversation with Draco and about handling things and a drinking glass shattered in response. Harry winced. “You don’t know anything about what I’m going through,” he argued.

“I know that letting Seamus fill you with as much alcohol and drugs as possible isn’t a healthy coping mechanism for your grief. It’s shite, Harry. You’re barely attending class, you’re on probation from the Quidditch team unless you get your grades up. This isn’t you.”

Harry found the strength to stand at that. “Fine, Ron. I’ll leave you alone. Thanks for being a great friend,” he spat venomously.

“I’m not trying to hurt you, I’m trying to make you snap out of it!” Books were now falling off of Ron’s bookshelf. “Drinking makes this all worse and you know it!”

“Piss off Ron.” Harry swept out of the room and into Draco’s, who was a little more forgiving when he crawled into his four-poster and cried.

Draco held him as Harry had another infamous meltdown, knowing he was enabling him and knowing that he’d have to bring it to Dumbledore soon if it didn’t stop, regardless of his feelings towards the Headmaster.

Ron and Draco met the next morning in Draco’s room this time after the ebony-haired wonder left. “Have you told Granger about how bad he’s getting?” Draco asked.

Ron shook his head. “Harry hides it well from her and I don’t want to have him thinking the world is against him more than he already does.”

Draco hummed in agreement. He felt bad for leaving Hermione out of it but she’d also declare immediate Healer intervention and didn’t want to risk Harry running off into the forest or something equally as dramatic. As much as Harry worried about the Black family madness Draco didn’t want to confirm his fears even though those manic traits were definitely shining through as of late.

“What do we do about this?”

“We need to stop letting him in every time he’s pissed,” Ron huffed.

Draco nodded. “It’s hard, though. He’s having such a rough go.”

Ron frowned. “I know, but it isn’t fair to either of us. I’m rarely getting a full night’s rest and with the full moon you don’t get any reprieve.” Draco flinched at the mention of the moon. He was okay with Harry talking about it but confirmation from other people was still touchy. Ron seemed to notice and grimaced. “Sorry, but you know I’m right. I know you’re loads better than the summer but magical exhaustion can still get you if you aren’t careful. Bill told me to look out after you.”

Draco’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “He didn’t.”

Ron just hummed in confirmation.

Draco rested his head against the wall. “Meddlesome Weasleys.”

“Welcome to the brood.”

Draco made a false gagging noise and Ron laughed.

“Shut up, I see you and Gin having girls nights.”

Ron narrowly missed the pillow aimed at his head in response.

He was really beginning to enjoy the kinship he’s taken up with the Weasleys, he didn’t need Ron reifying it for him. Besides, they needed to look out after Harry, which seemed to be spiraling out of control.

Draco found himself unable to say no to Harry most nights, Ron held on stronger than he did to their “no alcohol, no exceptions” mantra: the redhead was obviously the better friend.

The accidental magic was getting stronger and uncontrollable the more Harry drank, leading Draco to a dreaded meeting with Dumbledore about it.

The Headmaster wasn’t nearly as concerned that a student was imbibing on campus and causing destruction as McGonagall was. “Mr. Black is doing _what_?” she seethed. And “For how long?” And “Albus we need to do something.”

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, thoughtful but not responding immediately. “Do you know where Harry is procuring the alcohol from?” he asked.

Draco shrugged. “I think Finnigan but I’m sure he has other ways.”

“Many students manage to sneak beverages into the castle, Minerva. Mostly schoolboy antics, wouldn’t you think? I recall his fathers doing the same.”

McGonagall scoffed at Dumbledore. “Albus this seems to be well-beyond schoolboy antics: he’s coping with grief in a very destructive way. We should get a Mind Healer in to see him.”

Dumbledore took on a stern look at that. “No. We don’t need him to see a Mind Healer.”

“Are you serious?” Draco interrupted. “He’s obviously got substance abuse issues and you’re not bringing in a Mind Healer.”

Dumbledore seemed to realize that Draco was still in the room. “Draco, my dear boy, thank you for bringing this to our attention. We will figure out the best course of action from here. You’re free to go.”

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime with him?” Draco crossed his arms. “I can’t keep coddling him.”

“Just be a good friend to him. Harry needs people who know the real him right now, you’ve been doing a great job so far. Good night, Draco.”

Draco looked to McGonagall who looked livid but didn’t say anything. He felt the wolf getting angry inside of him and he remembered what Remus said about working on his emotions. Rather than having a screaming match with the most powerful wizard in Britain, Draco took the self-preservation route and got out of their sight.

The next day, Draco heard Seamus loudly complaining that someone had tipped of McGonagall and his stash was taken away. Harry looked crushed but he could see the wheels turning in his head. Draco wondered if he could manage to knick Harry’s Invisibility Cloak so he couldn’t run off to a pub.

Regardless, Harry in withdrawl seemed to be better accidental magic-wise rather than inebriated Harry. The bouts of anger and Matilda-esque meltdowns seemed to slow now that his supplier was out. He was attending class again and was working on getting his grades up. Ron and Draco were, overall, pleased with the turn around. Of course, that was until the worst day ever for Harry thus far.

The very last time Harry knocked on Draco’s door in a full tirade was mid-October. He was  doing so well but found himself reeling from Pansy Parkinson putting the pieces together and it naturally spreading throughout the entire school. The morning’s _Daily Prophet_ had a quasi tell-all of the findings—he wondered who sold him out to the news. Harry had a meeting with Dumbledore and McGonagall about what to do about the inevitable lurking paparazzi in Hogsmeade and both settled on the idea that Harry shouldn’t go at all for his safety. He was livid. He set the Headmaster’s curtains on fire through a bout of accidental magic and stormed out, ready to raid the kitchens of its firewhiskey.

That night was awful.

Harry had drank enough for the entire Quidditch team for the first time in awhile and decided that Draco needed to comfort him. Draco wasn’t having it.

“Can I come in?” Harry slurred against Draco’s doorway, not caring for how voluminous his tone was nor the stares they were getting from Prefects passing by to their own rooms.

“Do you think this is a good idea right now?” Draco replied, feeling the déjà vu of their first night back in the castle. It didn’t matter: he was so angry at Harry’s decision to get completely pissed after so much progress. It didn’t make sense to the blonde.

Harry frowned. “What does that even mean?”

Draco sighed. He had had it. “It means that we’re getting into a pattern of behavior again in which you get completely fucked up and come see me to hide from your feelings and I’m not doing this again.”

Harry scoffed. “That’s not what this is.” He tried pushing past Draco but the blonde held steady. “I just miss you,” he tried, “and I’ve had a rotten day.”

Draco snorted and crossed his arms. On the inside, he felt bad; he could smell the angst coming off of Harry and he knew that ever since the school found out his true identity he was having a rough go of it. However, he knew that the enabling cycle had to end and it had to end tonight. He wasn’t going to let Ron down on this one. Or Harry. Remus thought the antics would stave off at school: how wrong he was.

Harry, sensing this, became more desperate. “Please, Draco. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“You have a room full of people you can be with. You’re not alone.”

“You know what I mean,” he huffed. He then inched closer to Draco so that their noses were almost touching. All Draco could really see were his eyes and suddenly it was if he was with the old Harry. It made him excited and frustrated all at once. Harry made a move to wrap his arms around Draco, but Draco backed away further into his room, realizing what was being propositioned here.

“I’m tired of the Antares antics, Harry. You need to go to bed.” Draco said, steeling his nerves. He wasn’t going to let the Golden Boy win that easily.

“Am I only good in the summer, then?” Harry was suddenly angry, balling up his fists. The water sitting on Draco’s bedside table began to rattle. Draco was a bit frightened at that: he knew what the Black Heir’s unchecked magic could unleash and it hadn’t been set free in awhile. “You said you’d be here for me, or did you forget?”

“That’s not what I mean, Harry.” Draco said calmly, trying to regain the situation. He tried to switch gears. “Look, the moon is a few days away and I need all of the rest I can get. I don’t fancy getting sick again.”

Harry snorted in derision. “Right. That’s what this is about. Not that you’ve become the prat you’ve always been.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Or, perhaps Potter,” he began in a haughty tone, making Harry flinch at the surname, “I really do need to rest and I can’t support your drinking habits any longer when my health is in jeopardy.” How easy it was to click into old habits, he thought. It made him uncomfortable but he had enough with Harry for one night. By now they were making quite the scene and Draco couldn’t care less. Ron was even craning his neck out of his doorway.

Harry just wanted to hurt Draco now that he knew he wasn’t going to get his way. “You never cared about me. You never wanted to help me. You just wanted an out from your shitty parents because you got tired of playing Death Eater.” Draco looked as if he were slapped and it set Harry over the edge. The glass shattered into a million pieces and Harry flinched, suddenly realizing what he had said. “Draco, I’m sorry.”

Draco blinked slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check. It was difficult this close to the moon but he didn’t want to create an even bigger scene now that was said. He also didn’t want to give Harry the satisfaction of fighting back. “You said you didn’t need a Healer—that you would work on this emotional stuff and your magic. I thought you were actually making an effort but I was wrong. Instead, you have continued to fill yourself with vices and take it out on those who actually give a flying fuck about you.” Harry opened his mouth to respond but Draco held up a hand. “I’m done, Harry,” he said sadly instead. “Go bother Weasley.” He shut the door in Harry’s face with a sigh, cleaned up the mess he left, and cast a silencing charm on the door so he wouldn’t have to hear the Black Heir pounding on his door and screaming to open up. Harry would just have to find someone else to haunt tonight.

The next day Harry was sitting at breakfast alone at the edge of the Gryffindor table. Ron was glaring daggers at him from down the table and Hermione looked exasperated. Draco felt guilty. It seemed as though Ron had taken Draco’s side over last night’s mess. He locked eyes with the Weasley in question, who nodded at him in reassurance that they were doing the right thing. Draco wasn’t so sure anymore. Harry didn’t even glance up once from his plate, shoulders hunched as whispers and stares swirled around him.

Draco tried to catch his attention on the way out. Just because he screwed up doesn’t mean Harry deserved the cold shoulder. “You okay?” he asked as they headed towards Transfiguration.

“Piss off,” was the reply he got, the Black Heir pushing past other students angrily to get away from the blonde.

So much for that.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide attempt in this chapter. Not very graphic but does mention blood and cutting.

Draco was looking forward to a silent nighttime patrol. He and Ron had split up to make shorter work for the both of them; they had been Prefects long enough to not need to be continuously paired. It was odd, being quasi friends with a Weasley, multiple Weasleys if he was being honest with himself. They both were ever-aware of their families’ blood feud, but Draco was coming to realize more and more the ridiculousness of some Pureblood customs. He wondered if that was Dumbledore’s plan when he said Sixth Year Prefects were to only sleep in their quarters. While aggravating at first, and definitely feeling like an overreach in the old man’s protective nature, Draco had found himself thankful for this rule: he was becoming more civil with the right people in addition to being safe from vengeful Slytherin dormmates, namely Theo.

Draco hadn’t had much contact with Harry as of late. The Black Heir was generally off somewhere alone, aside from the odd Quidditch practice, having successfully gotten off probation a few weeks prior. He had tried to make amends with him after Harry’s last meltdown but Harry seemed to not want anything to do with anyone, spending most of his free time outside by the lake smoking, battered Odyssey in his hand. At least he wasn’t drinking anymore, even if Harry was cross with everyone.

One day Draco decided to join him, plopping down next to the Black Heir as he watched the giant squid wave from afar. “Hey,” he said.

Harry nodded towards him. “Hi.” He took a long drag.

The malaise was palpable. “Where do you keep getting those?”

“Sneaking off to Hogsmeade when nobody is looking,” Harry replied, staring ahead.

“What of the Auror guard constantly keeping tabs?” They had become a fixture to the pathways out of the castle, making sure nobody got in or out that wasn’t supposed to.

“They can’t detect my Invisibility Cloak.”

“Ah.”

They sat in more uncomfortable silence for a little while, Harry refusing to make any sort of eye contact with anything but the lake.

“I’m sorry about that night, you know,” Draco said, startling Harry into looking at him. “I was just really worried about you; we all were. Getting cross and shutting you out wasn’t the best course of action, I realize.”

“Well I’m not drinking anymore so there’s that,” Harry replied after a moment. “Probably needed the wakeup call.” That surprised Draco. “I honestly should say thanks to you and Ron. My magic has been much less volatile now that I’m sober. Only downside is withdrawl symptoms I suppose. Gotta sweat it out.” He drew his knees to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He looked really fragile.

“Are you doing alright, though?” Draco asked carefully. “Trust me, I prefer you don’t damaging your liver beyond repair but being sober makes everything more real I bet.”

Harry smiled in a way that didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m fine. The whispers have died down for the most part. I made it through Halloween.” Draco frowned at that. He knew that was a touchy day for him. “I’m good. Don’t worry so much.” Harry nudged Draco like it was old times.

“I mean the whole new face thing, too.”

Harry sighed in exasperation. “It’s not really a new face anymore, is it? I’m fine.”

“Well, we’re all here for you if you need us. You know that, right?” Draco couldn’t help to feel the deep guilt surrounding him throwing Harry out when he was clearly out of control. He didn’t want to do that again; not ever.

“Of course, Draco.” The odd smile was back. “Thanks.”

Draco shook himself from the memory of that day. That was the longest conversation they held in some time; Harry hasn’t stopped by the Prefect dorms since the volatile October night. After that day by the lake Harry seemed to become the perfect student, buried in his work, not even giving Professor Snape a hard time. When he wasn’t in class he was by the lake or in the library, sometimes with Hermione but most of the time alone. It was day and night, honestly and Draco didn’t know whether to feel relieved or concerned. Maybe he didn’t need a Mind Healer after all and was finally getting on with life. Still, though, Draco couldn’t help but have his mind occupied by the Black Heir, much to his chagrin and Ron’s delight, ever excited to prey on the blonde’s affections.

It wasn’t like Draco wasn’t trying to push his feelings down. But after he finally had an altercation with Blaise, he realized he was doomed to like Potter.

“Can we just try again, Draco?” he had asked one night when Draco actually decided to grace the Slytherin Common Room with his presence, Theo be damned.

Draco gave Blaise an exasperated look in reply.

Blaise wasn’t one to back off, though, and he sat closer to the blonde. “I know I really messed up. But weren’t we good together?” He placed his hand over Draco’s who pulled away as if stung.

“You hurt me, Blaise,” Draco said, opting for honestly rather than saving face. Blaise winced at the confession.

“I just didn’t know what to do. I was scared,” Blaise admitted.

Draco sighed, thinking about his conversation with Remus all of those weeks ago. “I know. I forgive you for that. I would probably do the same.”

Blaise lit up. “So we _can_ give it another go?”

Draco frowned. “No, I don’t think so.”

Blaise deflated at that. “Why not? I promise I will never do that again. It was stupid and cowardly and I’m so sorry.” He took Draco’s hands again, opting to kneel in front of him rather than sitting next to him, creating the illusion of begging. The few First Years that were in the Common Room began to whisper excitedly to one another. Draco sent a glare their way but it didn’t seem to quell their gossip.

He looked down at his ex-boyfriend. “I loved you, Blaise,” he said sadly.

Blaise smiled at him, obviously thinking he won. “I love you too, Dray.”

Draco shook his head. “No, you misheard me. I _loved_ you. I don’t love you anymore.” Draco honestly didn’t know how true that was but he wasn’t willing to start over with him right now.

“I’ll never stop loving you, Draco. How could you say you don’t feel the same?”

Draco pulled his hands away again, feeling very tired. “I just don’t. Even though I forgive you about what happened it still messed me up. I can’t trust you like that again. I can’t let myself love you like that again. I’m not letting you hurt me again.”

Blaise’s eyes were shining with unshed tears and Draco looked away, not wanting to see his friend cry, nor did he want Blaise to see he was beginning to get upset as well.

“It’s him, isn’t it? It’s always been him.” The First Years started whispering more excitedly. Blaise turned to them. “Oy, you lot, out.” They grumbled at Blaise but didn’t dare cross an upperclassmen, leaving the room.

Draco had whipped his head back to Blaise during the commotion, suddenly alert. “What are you talking about?”

Blaise frowned. “It’s Harry. You love Harry. It’s okay, I get it.”

Draco shook his head. “No, I don’t. We’re cousins.”

“We’re all cousins, Draco, you know that doesn’t make a difference here.”

“I don’t love him, Blaise.” _I love you, you idiot. Enough to know that you need to let me go for now._

Blaise had the audacity to give a chuckle in response, seemingly set free via the thought of Draco falling for Harry. It made sense to him somehow. He kissed Draco on the cheek. “It’s okay, Dray. He probably loves you too. I’m sorry for fucking things up so badly. I want you to trust me, at least as my friend.”

Draco frowned at the cognitive dissonance within him. “We’ll always be friends. I just can’t be with you like that with a war going on and you trying to protect your family.” He thought about Remus and the colony. “I’m not putting you in a position to have to choose between me and your family again.”

Blaise nodded in understanding. “I get it. I’m sorry for pressuring you about it.” He wiped the remaining tears from his eyes. “I do love you, though. That will never change.”

Draco squeezed Blaise’s hand tightly, as if telling him he loved him too, just not in that way right now. “And I don’t love Harry, Blaise.”

“You do like him though, right?”

Draco couldn’t answer and that was all Blaise needed for confirmation. He hugged Draco tightly. “It’ll be alright. Let me know if you need to snog out your frustrations.” Draco gave a chuckle at that.

“You don’t give up do you?”

“Never, babe. And, if you’re into polyamory you know who to call.”

“Oh piss off.” But it made Draco laugh and it seemed like everything was beginning to be okay with them finally.

Draco frowned a little at that memory. His feelings were still very complicated and he hadn’t even talked to Harry about any of it. Or Blaise after that, really. He felt very much at odds.

_Nevermind that_ , he thought. _Almost done with patrol._ He’d meet up with Ron shortly and they could play chess or something to get his feelings off his mind.

Draco rounded the corner by Myrtle’s bathroom, arguably the least active hall minus the odd First or Second Year trouble makers. After the whole Chamber of Secrets incident, the older students gave that area a wide berth. He sensed something was off as he neared the bathroom; the hair on the back of his neck began to rise.

_Is that blood?_ Draco thought suddenly as the scent invaded his nostrils. He let the wolf take over for a moment as he let his sense of smell take over. It _was_ blood, he realized with dread. And it was coming from Myrtle’s bathroom. He couldn’t get a scent of who or what it was, the taste of copper was beginning to overtake his senses.

He called loudly for Ron or anyone really, to no avail. He groaned, realizing that he really couldn’t wait for anyone to arrive, someone was really hurt in there.

He was met with a horrifying scene.

There was entirely too much blood on the floor and Myrtle was tutting at someone who was clearly unconscious. Draco’s heart fell to his stomach with dread. “Ron!” he shouted. “Someone!” As he neared the body he realized who it was. “Fuck! Myrtle, get Dumbledore!”

“Isn’t it romantic, Draco?” she said dreamily, obviously excited at the prospect of a new hunt.

“Go, now, this isn’t a joke!”

She huffed. “Oh fine, you’re no fun.” She zoomed off, hopefully to get a teacher.

Draco knelt next to the form, not caring that he was going to be covered in blood. “Harry,” he lamented. He put an ear to his chest. He could barely make out a heartbeat, which was really bad considering his extra-sensitive hearing. “Fuck. Harry, come on.” He then noticed the long gashes down his arms and the knife used to make them. Draco wanted to vomit from the sight.

Instead, something strange came over him. Instincts took over and he grabbed hold of Harry’s arms tightly. He felt his magic bubbling over onto his fingertips. “ _Heal._ ” He willed. Where was this coming from? He kept repeating the mantra over and over as literal light began to shoot from his fingertips and into the wounds. The bleeding had stopped, whether it was from Harry bleeding completely out or Draco’s magic, he didn’t know but he pressed on. Draco was beginning to tire but he knew he needed to keep going until he heard the heartbeat getting a bit stronger. He felt someone finally run into the room but he couldn’t take his focus off of the task at hand. Something had truly taken him over and it was frightening and exhilarating.

Tears were spilling from Draco’s eyes as he kept shouting “ _Heal!_ ”, expending what felt like all of the magic he had. He didn’t care if he became a Squib after this, he needed to save Harry. He wasn’t going to fail him again. After what seemed like an eternity later, Harry’s eyes fluttered open. “Oh thank Merlin, you stupid idiot.” Draco exclaimed, then promptly passed out from exhaustion.

Draco woke up to the brightest white his eyes could take. It resulted in a splitting headache. “Ugh,” he groaned, voice sounding like he hadn’t used it in ages, closing his eyes. He felt someone stir beside him. Maybe he wasn’t dead?

“Draco?” He knew that voice. “Are you awake?”

“Dad?” His throat _really_ hurt. He heard a scramble and then a glass of water being pressed into his lips. “Thanks.” He chanced opening his eyes again. He tried to sit up but was met with intense pain. He cried out.

Lucius was quick to steady him back against the pillows. “Easy. You need time to heal.”

Draco began to get his bearings and shift out of the foggy, half-asleep state he was in. “How are you at Hogwarts? Death Eaters can’t get in,” he said, reaching a hand up to massage his throat gently. His voice was coming out so creaky. He hated sounding so weak.

“Honey, you aren’t in the Hospital Wing. You’re at St. Mungo’s.” Lucius brushed Draco’s hair back gently. Draco wanted to swipe his hand away but felt too weak.

“Where’s mum? Why are you here? You hate me.” Lucius pressed the glass into Draco’s lips again and he drank. The cool water eased his throat a little. “Tea would be better.”

Lucius let out a breathy laugh at that. “You can’t have tea yet. I paged the Healer, though so we’ll see.” He then got serious. “I don’t hate you. The hospital got in contact with us and came as soon as we could. Your mum just stepped out for some food. I’m so glad you’re alright.”

“Why didn’t they call Remus?” He didn’t care about the look of hurt that flashed across his father’s face. He deserved to feel guilty. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Everything’s a bit foggy.”

“Makes sense. You’ve been out for about five days.”

“ _Five days?_ ”

“You saved Harry Potter’s life.”

Draco’s eyes widened, suddenly remembering. He opened his mouth to ask his father how but he was suddenly surrounded by Healers. They took a bunch of vitals, asked him what year it was, and instructed him not to move too much. He wasn’t given any information as to why he was so worse for wear. Maybe they didn’t know either.

They gave Lucius a bunch of forms to look through. Draco bit back a comment about him not needing them, seeing as he was disowned and all. He just watched Lucius nod and ask a bunch of questions, tuning most of it out. He looked bad. His eyes were sunken in and his hair was a mess. He wasn’t even wearing a robe (something Draco never saw); instead he was in simple black slacks and a dark green button down. He wondered what was happening back at the Manor. He wanted to see his mum desperately, trying to fight sleep so he could say hello. This was to no avail, he realized as he closed his eyes and tuned out the world again.

He woke up to arguing the next time. He didn’t open his eyes or make any motion that he was awake again, even though his limbs were crying out in agony. His pain potions must have worn off. His father and what sounded like Remus seemed to be having it out.

“You’re not his father, you have no right to his records.”

“What are you going to do with his release forms, Malfoy? It’s not like he’ll be spending the holidays with you.”

“We don’t even know if he’ll be released in time for that. For all we know he’ll be in here until the Spring term.”

“You shouldn’t even be here. You chucked him out of your life as soon as he became different! Now that he’s half normal again you’re showing interest?” Half normal? What did that even mean?

“I’m showing interest because he is my son! Not yours!”

Draco couldn’t take the pain anymore and let out a small whimper. That was enough for Remus to pick up on. “Draco? Are you okay, bud?” What was with everyone and the pet names all of a sudden?

“It hurts,” he managed, voice still raw.

“I’ll grab a Healer. _Don’t touch him, Lupin._ ” Lucius ran out into the hallway.

Remus rolled his eyes and sat next to Draco. He rested his hand gently over Draco’s, ignoring Lucius’s commend. It had a nice calming effect. Pack mate perk, he supposed. “We’ve been arguing just about every day. Your father is insane.”

Draco glared at the ceiling. “My father is a murderer. He shouldn’t even be allowed here.” He squeezed Remus’s hand tightly as a wave of pain rolled through him. “Fuck.”

“Language,” Remus chided, placing water in front of Draco, who was thankful that he was provided with a straw this time.

“What’s happened to me?” he groaned. “Is Harry okay?” There was so much blood that night it was hard to believe he was somehow alive.

“Harry’s doing alright, considering. He’s here too. Same floor and everything.” Remus smoothed back Draco’s hair just like his father. The juxtaposition of the two men made Draco’s heart ache. He hated to admit that he missed the bastard, even if he threw him out in the cold. “You called on some ancestral healing magic, according to the Healers. Your father confirmed. Kind of cool, actually, if you ignore why you had to do it.”

Draco scrunched his face up in thought. Ancestral healing magic? Before he could ask anymore questions, his father came back with a Healer.

“Hello, Draco. How are we feeling?” the Healer asked.

“Been better, honestly,” Draco replied. He gripped Remus’s hand again as he felt another shock of pain. He let out a small cry.

The Healer rushed over and did a quick scan with her wand. “Okay. Everything is normal. Sorry, the healing process is going to be a bit lengthy. You essentially donated half of your core to Mr. Potter. It needs time to regenerate.”

She replaced a bag that Draco just noticed was attached to him. He looked at his free hand and saw a needle inserted. “What’s with the Muggle tech?”

“Have to give you your pain potions slowly,” she explained as she switched the bags. “You’ll probably feel a bit loopy in a little. Sorry about that.” As the potion began to work its way into Draco the pain began to ease. He heaved a grateful sigh. “We also need to avoid too much magic use on you while you’re regenerating. Only basic scans to not interfere with the process.”

“I didn’t even know that regenerating your core was possible.”

“Not for most.”

“Always the freak of nature then, am I?”

“Malfoys are natural Healers,” Lucius explained. “Though, we haven’t had a Malfoy show traits of it in some time. And they usually don’t exert themselves to the point of exhaustion like you did. You must really care for Potter.”

Draco looked down. Another notch against him in his father’s eyes.

“Can I see him?”

“You’ll be lucky to be able to get out of bed in a week. Just focus on resting for now, alright? And maybe a future apprenticeship at St. Mungo’s.” His Healer gave him a wink as Draco let out a giggle. Must be the pain potion. Everything was getting a bit swirly.

“You’re pretty. I like your eyes. They’re _so_ green,” he slurred. Oh no, word vomit. He looked at Remus helplessly as his Healer laughed. “Did I just say that?”

Remus laughed, too. “Yes you did.”

“Oh no.” And then he finally saw his mother walk in. “Mum!”

She looked a little worn but still as regal as ever. Remus stood to give the two some space. “I’ll just be down the hall,” he said.

“No, don’t go,” Draco said, wincing as he tried to sit up to no avail. “I need my wolf dad here.”

Lucius looked furious. Remus looked amused but also beaming. Narcissa was just happy to see Draco awake and talking. She sat down next to him where Remus was previously occupying and gave him a gentle hug, making Draco ultimately dissolve into tears that he would blame on the pain potion later. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he murmured.

“I’d never let that happen,” she replied. “I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

“What do you mean? I’m a hero.”

“You’ve been hanging out with too many Gryffindors.”

Remus did eventually slip out to give the family some space and Draco was filled in on some of what was going on at home. Not that he’d remember too much of it seeing as he was completely looped for most of the conversation. No, they weren’t in danger for leaving. Voldemort was travelling on some sort of important personal mission he didn’t trust anyone with. Yes, they would have risked it anyway to make sure he was safe. Lucius apologized hundreds of times on deaf ears. Draco wasn’t willing to forgive that yet but he’d let him fuss over him all he wanted. Draco was careful not to feed any important information back to them: just that he was doing well in school and was keeping himself safe despite landing himself in the hospital.

Night soon fell and Draco was sleeping while his parents watched over him. Remus ducked his head in to check on him. “Was he in terrible pain?” he asked.

Lucius sent him a glare. “Only temporarily when the potion ran out,” Narcissa responded. “As long as he doesn’t move around he doesn’t seem to be disturbing his core too much.”

Remus nodded. “That’s good.” He looked at Lucius. “I’m not trying to steal your son from you, you know. I care about him a lot, though. You kind of threw him at me, after all.”

Lucius frowned, not in a position to argue. “I’ve failed him as a father. It’s the most shameful thing I’ve ever done.”

“Something had to top you beating the shit out of Sirius all those years ago.”

Narcissa flinched. “Remus, please.”

Remus just shrugged. “It’s true, though.” He sat next to her and sipped on the coffee he had. “Very glad _that_ betrothal got nixed when he ran away.”

They all remained silent for awhile after that. “So this is the calm before the storm,” Lucius mused.

Remus hummed. “Remember when we all hung out? That was wild.”

“Who would’ve thought we’d end up here,” Narcissa said desolately.

“Who would’ve thought Draco would sacrifice himself for Harry Potter,” Remus said.

“He looks so small,” Lucius said brokenly. It was obvious that seeing his son in such a state was destroying the man’s resolve.

“You can make things right, you know,” Remus said. “People switch sides all the time for love.”

“But the cause—“

“’The cause’ got compromised for you as soon as Draco turned. Don’t be daft with me,” Remus said, taking another sip of his coffee nonchalantly. It was almost wicked how he was working the sick son angle, but damn it if he wouldn’t try to bring Draco and his mum back together. “We’re going to beat him again. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of history for a second time, do you? I strongly doubt an Imperius defense will get you through it this time.”

“Do you even know what you’re saying?” Lucius spat. Remus was getting to him.

“I do. I’m not the one on pain potions sobbing that I finally get to see my parents even if I’m in recovery _again_. Even my father, who threw me quite literally to the wolves.” Lucius flinched at that. “Just think about it. You know who to contact.” He squeezed Narcissa’s hand in goodbye. “I’m going to stay with Harry. Nobody is here with him tonight. Both his parents are dead, you see.” Lucius flinched again. “See you tomorrow morning.” He strolled out to leave the two to ponder.

The next morning, Draco began to show small signs of progress. He was able to sit up without much pain but was unfortunately still bed-ridden and in need of pain potions. He really needed to get out for the holidays if he was going to show Harry the Garden. He knew without a doubt that the Black heir would benefit greatly from being able to speak to his parents after all of this. He should have told him about it. Maybe it would have kept him from trying to reach the other side.

His parents and Remus had left for a bit to change clothes and purchase books and other things that would occupy Draco for what surely was going to be a long stay. It was when they were off running errands when Harry chose to sneak in.

He looked impossibly pale, most likely from blood loss. His eyes were sunken and his arms were bandaged heavily. Still, though, he was moving and talking and _breathing_.

Draco’s face crumpled at the sight of him sitting next to him. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You saved my life. I don’t have a lot of time—they said I could only see you for a few minutes. I just wanted to thank you.” He squeezed Draco’s hand gently.

“It’s all my fault you even got to that point. I shouldn’t have shut you out. I should have kept a closer eye. You were obviously in need of help anyone could see it. I’m so sorry.” Draco was crying now, fully overwhelmed by the guilt that was consuming him. He was also furious at Dumbledore for brushing it off as well. Did he _want_ Harry to be a complete wreck?

Harry’s eyes were shining with unshed tears. “It’s not your fault, Draco. I picked up the bottle. I was just so overwhelmed with grief and the expectations to end the war for everyone. I just wanted to be numb. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore.” Tears began to spill. “I still don’t want to feel anything but I’m getting help now.”

“Do you still want to…you know.”

Harry’s face twisted into a pained expression. “I don’t know.” He let out a shaky breath, hands trembling. “The withdrawal low was really bad. I felt like shite all the time. If I wasn’t feeling grief I was feeling pressure to save everyone or I was overwhelmed with complicated feelings and emotions. When I made the first slash I—I honestly felt relieved. I felt free.”

Draco squeezed Harry’s hand tightly. How could they let him get this far? “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

Harry ran his free hand shakily through his hair. His scar stood out starkly against his pale complexion. “The relief lasted for like 5 seconds until I fully realized what I’ve done. I was terrified and I tried calling out but only Myrtle could hear me. She was determined to have a stall mate and didn’t do anything. Thank Merlin you showed up.”

Draco didn’t know what to say. Harry was essentially baring his soul to him. “That was the most frightening thing I ever experienced. You with all that blood,” he said.

“Not being face to face with a huge werewolf?”

“I was Imperiused so I honestly wasn’t scared until I was bitten.”

Harry didn’t know that part and was suddenly upset all over again. “These fucking war games! This is why I have all of this pressure. I have to end this. It has to end soon.”

“Harry, no. It’s not solely on your shoulders.” Draco reached up, pulling Harry’s chin to face him. “Fuck the prophecy. You didn’t start this war. You weren’t the one flinging Unforgiveables left and right. Dumbledore grooming you to be a war machine ends here. Focus on healing. We’re going to help you pick up the pieces, I promise. Don’t worry about some bloody war that our parents started years ago.”

“I can’t sit with what’s happening. People are being tortured and murdered. I can’t stand for it.”

“You can stand to rest. You can stand to work with the Mind Healers and get your mind right. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault.”  

Harry suddenly remembered something. “That’s the worst part. They found something in my head.”

Draco felt a cold chill wash over him. “What?”

“Turns out I’ve had a horcrux inside of me.”

“A horcrux?”

“A bit of him. Inside of me. It’s how I’ve been able to see through to him.”

Draco moved to sit up suddenly, which caused him to cry out. Harry gently pushed him back into the pillows. “How? Why?” Dumbledore must’ve known, why else would he be so adamant of Harry not seeing a Mind Healer? He wondered who found them in the bathroom: certainly not Dumbledore if they wound up outside of his control. He suddenly realized what Voldemort was doing on his personal mission. “He’s got more of them.”

Harry frowned. “Figured as much. Remus almost set the curtains on fire he was so upset when they told me.” Harry rubbed his face, suddenly very tired. “Apparently the near death experience forced it out so thanks for that. But there’s still lingering traces. It was really damaging to my core. Imagine my wizard tantrums without dark magic suffocating me,” he joked.

At the mention of damage, Draco felt his magic rush to his fingers. He clenched his fists, willing the magic back into him. He’d probably die if he tried to heal Harry again. “Anyway, they’re running a bunch of tests and they can’t use magic to heal my arms so I get some cool new scars,” he continued, trying to make light of the situation but failing. “I just want this all to be over.”

“Harry are you ready?” a Healer had entered the room. Harry looked up.

He sighed. “I suppose so.” He gripped Draco’s hand one last time. “I know I unloaded a lot on you just now but I don’t want you to worry too much. I’m in good hands. I’m getting help. You did good.”

Draco squeezed back, unable to express how being called ‘good’ for once felt. “Come back later?” he opted for instead.

“Of course. See you.”

Then he was gone. Draco, relieved that he finally had physical proof that Harry was alive even if he was still a bit worse for wear, took the opportunity to rest before his family came back. They’d deal with this horcrux nonsense when they got out of here. They were in good hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder that this story isn't a how-to book on dealing with friends/family members who are struggling with depression/anxiety/suicidal thoughts/alcoholism. My characterizations are far from perfect and I am in no way advocating you getting angry with people who are obviously crying out for help. This is a story--perfect behavior on the part of friends would 1) make this unrealistic as nobody is perfect and this stuff is generally messy, especially if you are a teen and 2) would not advance the plot in the way I envisioned. If everyone was perfect, Harry would never have been sent to unloving relatives and wouldn't be involved in a war since 11 in the first place. 
> 
> Writing is cathartic for me. I'm not out to please everyone, just offer what has been taking up head space for some time in the hopes that someone else might enjoy it or take something from it. 
> 
> As always thanks for reading. See you next time,  
> Kate


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff at the end to toast that you got through all of the angst (so far). Thanks for continuing to read and enjoy!

The hospital was decidedly boring.

The continuous wand scans and nagging pain inside of his chest had made Draco want to jump out of his skin most of his waking hours. Someone was always sitting with him, whether it be Remus or his parents. Every so often, Mrs. Weasley would be there with various sweets for him and Harry, which he greatly appreciated: he had missed her home cooking while at Hogwarts. It made him long for Grimmauld Place in a way he never thought possible.

He tried to keep up on school work, but between the potions that made him woozy and intermittent jabs of pain that would course through his body, Draco couldn’t find the will to concentrate too heavily. Mostly, he settled for reading novels, wanting to imagine himself to be anywhere but here.

Harry had been allowed to visit every so often and they’d talk about innocuous things: Quidditch scores, what they were planning on getting everyone for Christmas if they were released in time, Draco’s latest read, if Harry was ever going to finish the Odyssey. They carefully avoided horcrux talk or the bandages still firmly wrapped around Harry’s arms. They most definitely avoided talk about how Draco sacrificed himself for Harry and what that meant. Draco was sure the subject would eventually come up, but not here. Not where there wasn’t really an escape from one another if feelings got too complicated.

Remus dropped the Prophet on his lap one morning as he handed him some tea. “I don’t really fancy the news, right now, Remus. Aren’t I already in enough pain?”

Remus barked out a laugh as he settled into the overstuffed armchair next to Draco’s bed. “Thought you’d be interested in today’s headline,” he replied.

Draco sipped from his mug, pointedly ignoring the paper in his lap. “Where’s mum?”

“Meeting with Dumbledore. Seriously, read it.”

Draco nearly choked on his coffee. “What?”

Remus waved his hand in dismissal, not wanting to bother Draco with worry. “It’s about treatment and school if you’re still peaky after the hols,” he half-lied. “No worries.”

Draco shifted uncomfortably, wincing in pain. Remus tutted at him and fluffed up his pillows. “Shouldn’t you be in that meeting?”

Remus frowned and worried himself with smoothing Draco’s covers. “I’m not technically your guardian, so no.” Draco could smell the malaise and slight sadness waving off of his former professor.

“Couldn’t you be though?” he asked, trying to keep the hope from his voice. He loved his parents, even his father however messed up that was. However, he didn’t want to have to return to the Manor, maybe ever. And Remus had shown genuine concern for his wellbeing and was the best person to look after him with his lycanthropy. “Aren’t I disowned?”

“Your father disowned you informally. Your mother did not.” Remus, sensing why Draco was so touchy about the guardianship subject, squeezed his hand gently. “You’re not going back there. I promise.”

Draco closed his eyes and willed back tears. He hated how his pain potion pulled on his emotional side. “I just get so scared when I think about the Manor. As much as I miss Mother, I don’t want her to try and take me back there.”

Remus smoothed Draco’s hair back gently. “She wouldn’t do that to you. She knows where you need to be. You’re safe with me, I promise.” Draco nodded, willing himself to not think so much about what happens next. “Maybe we’ll get a Mind Healer in, yeah? They wanted to evaluate you anyway as your core grows to make sure you’re okay.”

Draco looked down. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I do, actually. There’s nothing shameful about therapy. Harry’s been doing better from it, slowly but surely.”

Draco nodded. “I know. He seems alright even though it’s only been a couple of weeks.” Draco ignored the reality that it only felt like a few days for him as he was in a coma for the beginning of the healing process and continuously in and out of sleep since then. He reached for the paper. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. I’m here indefinitely anyway.”

Remus smiled. “Good, we’ll set it up.” It was met with deaf ears as Draco scanned the front page of the _Prophet_.

It was a giant side by side photo of him and Harry. The headline read _An Unlikely Hero: Draco Malfoy Saves the Chosen One from Certain Death_. “You’re kidding.” He dropped the paper, not wanting to read more. “How do they find these things out? Do they know he attempted suicide?”

Remus was more amused than annoyed that his two quasi charges were front page news. “No, they don’t mention it. They just say he was in ‘grave peril.’ I think a student leaked the information. Must’ve seen you two getting escorted to St. Mungo’s. Myrtle was screaming about it from what I’ve gathered. Anyway, cheers, you’re a hero.”

Draco gave an uncharacteristic snort in response. “Yes, very heroic to the point of stupidity. Should have been sorted into Gryffindor.”

“Nah, we’d eat you alive, I reckon,” said a voice coming from the door. It was Ron with Hermione in tow.

Draco grinned. “Weasley, at last. Thought you were eaten by the giant squid. ‘Lo, Hermione.”

Ron snorted. “You wish.” The two shuffled into the room, pulling chairs closer to his bed. Draco let the surrealness of it all wash over him. Never in his wildest dreams would he imagine Remus, Ron, and Hermione visiting him in the hospital in any context. Now, it was just normal. They’ve come a long way since the summer.

Draco tried to sit up and grunted in pain. “Draco you need to stop doing that,” Remus chided, gently helping him into a more comfortable position. “They let you out to visit, then?” Remus asked the two newcomers.

“Yep, you’re our Hogsmeade trip,” Hermione said.

Draco forgot it was the weekend. “Cheers,” he said in response. “Have you seen Potter yet?”

“No, actually. He’s in a session.” Ron shifted uncomfortably.

“He’s doing better,” Draco reassured.

Ron shook his head in sadness and guilt. “I can’t believe I let him get that bad.”

“We both did. It’s okay—he’s getting the help he needs.” Hermione looked to be holding back tears. She was fiddling with the hem of her shirt nervously. “Hermione, you didn’t even know the half of it—you would’ve gotten him help straight away if you did.”

“I didn’t realize he was still hurting from everything,” she said, completely shattered. “I should have.”

Draco shook his head in disagreement. “He hid it well from people that he thought he had to. He was playing perfect student when it happened—he got all of us off of his trail.”

“I’m just glad you found him, mate,” Ron said. “I don’t have any freaky healing magic that would have helped him.”

Draco laughed and then winced. _Stupid core._ “Freaky healing magic, great. Add it to the list of weird things for me.”

“I’m glad for your weird things. Partly why we keep you around actually,” Remus said jokingly.

Draco glared but was fighting back a smile.

“How are you feeling after everything?” Hermione asked.

“Did they tell you much?”

“Not really. Professor McGonagall said you were in a coma.”

“Yeah for five days.”

Hemione’s eyes widened. “How are you coherent? Muggles are usually unable to speak or communicate if they’ve been a coma that long.”

Draco shrugged. “Wizards react differently, I suppose. I gave Harry half of my core essentially to heal him and my body shut down.”

Ron let out a low whistle. “You got it bad for him, don’t you?”

Draco blanched and Remus, who had moved to the side table in the room to enjoy his tea and leave the teens alone, couldn’t suppress a snort from coming out. “Shut it,” Draco warned the elder werewolf, who held his hands up in defense. “I do not ‘have it bad’ for Potter. I just didn’t fancy him dying is all.”

Ron quirked an eyebrow, not believing a word coming out of the ex-Malfoy, especially considering their late night conversations. “Mate, that kind of healing magic doesn’t present itself unless you really care about someone.”

“Malfoys are natural healers,” he replied defensively, but Ron echoing his father’s words were ringing in his ears. He felt so vulnerable. Everyone was going to know his feelings now. Especially with all of the “hero” nonsense in the news. He hoped it wouldn’t come back on his parents when Voldemort found out.

“It’s okay if you like him, Draco,” Hermione said, resting her hand over his reassuringly.

Draco frowned in defeat. “I’m not supposed to. Malfoys and Potters. It’s not done.”

“Please, the two of you have been obsessed with one another since you set eyes on each other,” Hermione said. It was Ron’s turn to snort.

Draco glared at him but didn’t protest.

“You’re going to have to tell him, you know. He’ll put it together soon enough.”

Draco was saved from telling Hermione that Harry _had_ put it together, albeit drunkenly at the club but had figured it out nonetheless. The green-eyed teen in question was poking his head into the door.

“Oh, you have company,” he said, voice sounding a little downtrodden. He then realized who Draco’s company was and looked a bit nervous as he said, “Oh, hey guys.”

It was an odd moment for Draco as the three stared at each other for what seemed like minutes. They seemed to be having a silent conversation as Harry awkwardly rolled his sleeves down to hide the bandages. He wasn’t ready for Ron and Hermione to see him like this. He felt ambushed.

“I’m just going to go back to my room. I’m really tired today,” he said.

“Did your session go alright?” Remus asked.

Harry nodded, not wanting to divulge anything too personal. “They have to run some more tests later but I just wanted to stop in and say hello before the rest of my day is taken up.”

“Tests?” Hermione asked, breaking their silence with Harry.

Harry looked at her oddly, as if he had realized she was still in the room. “Uh, yeah,” he replied lamely, scratching the back of his head with his hand awkwardly. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You’ve said that before and look where we are.” Harry flinched at that.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down. “I really messed up didn’t I?”

At that, Hermione launched herself at Harry, not being able to take his guilty face any longer. She squeezed tightly as Harry’s arms hung limply for a minute and then slowly wrapped themselves around her, easing into the embrace. Ron looked away, wiping something from his eye. It was honestly almost too much for Draco to watch all of this emotion coming out at once.

When the moment finally passed and they had settled into Draco’s room (why they didn’t leave him and go to Harry’s, Draco would never know), Hermione was brave enough to ask Harry why he was still bandaged. Draco had been wondering the same thing. It had been a few weeks; he should be healed by now.

Harry looked a little ashamed at that and avoided everyone’s gaze as he explained. He most certainly didn’t look at Remus, who already knew why but was still a bit disappointed in him for it. “Well, that could be because I might have used an enchanted blade?” he began, using uptalk as a defense mechanism. Hermione, Ron, and Draco all looked appalled at that as they stared at the Black Heir in disbelief. Harry swallowed nervously. “The wounds will keep reopening until there is magic intervention…which they can’t do yet because of all of the testing. So they’ve just been bandaging me up really tightly until they can figure out what to do about the dark magic remnants.”

“Dark magic remnants?” Ron asked, almost scared to know what that meant.

Harry scratched the back of his head nervously again; it seemed to be a new tic for him. It didn’t seem to fit with his new look, which was impossibly posh by default. Potter genetics are tough to outfight, Draco supposed. “Uh, yeah,” he replied lamely. At Hermione’s quirked eyebrow, he continued: “I had a horcrux inside of me.”

“A what?”

Draco felt like he was going to be sick all over again. It wasn’t as much of a surprise to him anymore, but every time Harry talked about how he had Voldemort’s soul _inside_ of him it made Draco’s skin crawl. He explained for Harry anyway when he noticed the Black Heir couldn’t seem to find the words. Hermione and Ron seemed to share Draco’s nausea. Ron paled so much that he turned gray. Hermione was just shaking her head in disbelief.

“It’s okay,” Harry tried to reassure them. “It’s out of me. Apparently destroying the vessel is the only way to get rid of a horcrux. I might have actually died for a few moments it seems. It did the trick though.”

“Wouldn’t that have been fun to find out going into battle with You-Know-Who,” Remus said scathingly. He was still angry with Dumbledore who most likely knew about this or at least had suspicions.

They were all silent for a few moments after that, understanding the gravity of what Remus was saying. Harry was beginning to feel ire towards his Headmaster: there was always some sort of twist or speedbump that had been hidden from him. It was becoming increasingly obvious that he was more of a pawn to Dumbledore than a person. He couldn’t stand it.

“So, how long are these tests supposed to go on?” Hermione asked. “They can’t keep you in tourniquets forever. You can’t be getting adequate blood supply: you’re so pale.”

“Could be the vampire genetics kicking in, too,” Remus mused, “seeing as Draco donated some of his core you’re probably with more of it than you used to.”

Draco suddenly realized something. “The moon is coming,” he said, panic beginning to settle in. “How am I supposed to transform here? They haven’t given me wolfsbane and I’m bedridden.”

Remus grabbed his face in realization that he forgot to inform Draco fully what had happened to him. “Right, right,” he said. “They did a full scan when you arrived, not realizing they couldn’t use too much magic yet and if they’re right you’re not going to transform anymore.”

Draco sat up quickly and cursed when he felt the tear in his chest. He didn’t care, though. “What are you saying?”

Remus settled Draco back into the sheets as he explained. “You might be the first lycanthropy survivor; well, half-survivor, you’re still pretty much a werewolf but without the full transformation bit.”

Draco felt like he couldn’t breathe. That’s what they were talking about when Remus mentioned him being ‘half-normal.’ “But I like that bit,” he said.

“I think you’re the first person to ever say that. You’re a wonder.”

“It’s just—when done properly, I mean—it’s…freeing,” he finished lamely. This was a big step for Draco: in a few short months he had gone to sticking his nose up at anything different to actually enjoying the weird sides of himself. It was strange having to say goodbye to it so soon, especially since he thought he would be transforming forever.

Remus smiled at that. “Yeah, I guess it is. I can’t believe the Healers didn’t brief you personally yet about this. They said you’ll still feel the pull of the moon probably, might get more instinctual, and if you were to bite someone during the full they’d probably turn.” Draco’s ears turned red at the prospect of biting someone. “But, as it stands, when you gave Harry part of your core, you gifted some of those traits to him. As your core heals, that half will be brand new—no werewolf bits.”

Draco looked at Harry in shock, suddenly realizing the fullness of what he had done. Hermione, too, had caught on to what Remus was saying and was staring at Harry as well. Harry, though, didn’t seem surprised at all: did he already know? “I turned the Chosen One into a werewolf?” he said in horror. “How did _that_ not make the papers?” Harry laughed at that. It was good to hear him laughing again, Draco realized. “Harry, I’m so sorry.”

Harry just shrugged. “I’ll take half-werewolf over full dead.” Everyone just stared at him and he laughed again. “Sorry, was that too dark?”

“A bit, yeah,” Ron replied. “It’s okay though. We’ll take you half-werewolf, too: full dark humour and all.”

Harry smiled at Ron. “Thanks, Ron.”

Eventually, Ron and Hermione had to leave and his parents had filtered back in, scaring Harry off for the rest of the day, having to go into testing anyway for the better part of the afternoon. Remus had gone off to Grimmauld at Draco’s mention that he was cold, muttering something about returning cardigans and hot chocolate, leaving him alone with his family. 

He asked his parents, “Is this morning’s headline going to make things more difficult for you?”

Narcissa just smiled and took Draco’s hand gently into her own. “That’s not for you to worry about it, dear,” she said. Lucius didn’t say anything.

Draco took a deep breath and said, “Mum, I think I like him. I’m afraid if I tell him that and it gets out that you two will be used as some bargaining chip later on. I feel like it’s unavoidable with the paper telling the world that I used natural healing magic on him. I think he’ll catch on on his own.”

Lucius rubbed his face tiredly. “Draco, you have liked Harry Potter since you could talk,” he said. Draco’s face heated up, thinking back to his imaginary Harry Potter friend growing up. That refusal of friendship at eleven really took a toll on him after telling everyone how much they’d get on. “No matter how much I’ve tried to keep you away from that boy, the two of you are like magnets. Why couldn’t you have stuck with Blaise?” he lamented.

Draco frowned. “Blaise didn’t want to stick with me, Father. He was worried about his family being sold out to Him.” Lucius blanched at that. “I know it’s dangerous to attach myself to Potter. I get that. I just think it’s moot at this point. I wanted you to know, though.” Draco took another breath, feeling brave. “I just wanted you to know who I am now. I’m sorry if I’m a huge disappointment.”

Lucius sighed. It was his turn to swallow down the self-preservation. “You’re not a huge disappointment. I probably am to you.”

Draco was taken aback by that. His father never owned up to much of anything. It was generally Draco’s fault. “You’re not a disappointment. I just don’t understand the appeal to Him.”

“Neither side is perfect, Draco.”

Draco nodded. “I know that. But at least the side I’m on isn’t calling people animals. Or murdering for fun. I understand wanting to preserve Pureblood traditions. I just don’t think that excluding others from experiencing those traditions is the way. Blood purity isn’t even a real thing. We have creature blood for chrissakes.”

“Have you always felt this way?”

Draco shrugged. “I dunno. But I always felt wrong when I’d be spiteful towards Granger or anyone deemed different. I don’t believe you should be judged on your blood status: it should be about abilities. Your side doesn’t stand for that.”

“Well what about diluting magic? Mixing magic and non-magic is sure to lessen power.”

“You’ve met Hermione Granger, right? Brightest witch of her age? Has Muggle parents? I don’t think ‘mixing’ is diluting the magic stream.”

His father was silent at that.

Draco yawned after a few more moments of unease. “I’m going to rest,” he said, closing his eyes, feeling very tired at the prospect of continuing their conversation. He felt his mother smooth his hair down as he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

When he next awoke, night had fallen and his parents were gone. He felt very sore as he tried to readjust himself; the pain was still quite unbearable when he was in between potions. He called for a Healer and they reupped his IV, noting that he was sleeping when it was time for a new bag and they didn’t want to wake him. He smiled in thanks and settled back into the pillows.

He closed his eyes as he felt the potion’s effects ease his pain somewhat. Unfortunately, he was wide awake and it seemed to be midnight. He was alone for the first time in awhile. It felt unsettling. He looked at the table to see that Molly had dropped off food for him. He was suddenly ravenous. At the thought of wanting to have the basket closer to him it appeared on his lap. He jumped suddenly and yelled out in pain. A Healer rushed back into the room.

“What happened? Are you okay?” she asked.

“Sorry,” Draco replied. “Made a sudden movement.”

The Healer noticed the basket in Draco’s lap and her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. “Did you walk by yourself?”

Draco shook his head. “I just thought about wanting it and it appeared in my lap. It startled me.”

Her face of concern turned to one of excitement. “Your core is healing just fine.”

Draco frowned. “Why am I still in pain?”

“It’s still regenerating. We can have you do some light spellwork tomorrow to assess where you’re at.” She smiled at Draco. “This is good; your body is doing what it’s supposed to.”

“Good,” he said, closing his eyes, “because I’m so tired of hospital food.” His Healer laughed. The potion was making him overtalk again, he realized. “They should just use this instead of Veritaserum. Can’t keep my bloody mouth shut, can I?”

She gave him a sly look. “Perfectly normal, I assure you. Need anything else?”

“A friend,” he said, “I’m so awake right now it’s insane.”

“How about some wizarding wireless instead?”

Draco frowned again. “I guess.” He looked towards the door as she turned the wireless on for him. “Can you wake Potter up? I want to look at his face.”

His Healer couldn’t contain her laughter at that one. “Sorry, love. Waking the patients after hours is against policy, especially famous ones.”

He grabbed a biscuit out of Mrs. Weasley’s goodies for him and stuffed it in his mouth to prevent any further embarrassment. His Healer didn’t need to wake Harry it seems, because the black-haired wonder in question was slowly passing by Draco’s room, much to Draco’s delight. “Harry! Am I psychic?” he wondered aloud through stuffed cheeks.

Harry burst out laughing. “What?”

The Healer tried to conceal her mirth as she said, “He’ll settle down soon. He just got new pain potion. What are you doing out of bed, Mr. Potter?”

“Couldn’t sleep and my arms felt really sore and stiff from being stuck in one place so long today so I fancied a walk,” he replied. He had been subject to the oddest magical variation of an MRI for the better part of the afternoon. Since they couldn’t use magic on him while they were figuring out how to treat him properly it was up to him to keep perfectly still. It really wore down on his already damaged arms.

“Can he stay?” Draco asked.

“He’s not a prisoner,” she replied. “As long as you’re feeling up to company,” she winked at Draco who turned a little red at that. “Call if you need anything,” she said, leaving the room.

Harry settled down next to him in the overstuffed armchair that everyone tended to fight over. “Do you need anything? Tea for your sweets?” he asked, eyeing the basket.

“Want some?” Draco held a biscuit out to him.

Harry laughed and shook his head. “I’m alright, thanks.”

Draco looked at him and smiled. “I’m glad we’re friends now,” he said. “It’s much less lonely.”

Harry grinned at the honesty. Draco liked how it changed his face from Black stoic poshness to Potter goofy brilliance. “Have a lot of visitors today?” he asked.

“Yeah actually. Very popular today. How were the tests?”

Harry frowned. “Lengthy and invasive. They seemed to figure it out, though. They’re calling in a specialist from America. They’ll be here tomorrow. Apparently they know how to deal with this without making things worse.” Harry seemed distraught at the prospect of being poked and prodded by someone new. “I can’t wait for them to heal my arms, though. They hurt all of the time.”

Draco matched Harry’s frown and reached for his bandaged arm. “I really thought I healed you all the way. What good is being a natural healer if I can’t overcome a cursed blade?”

Harry took Draco’s hand in his instead of letting it reach his sore arm. “You did brilliant, Draco. It did close for quite awhile, but it reopened when we got here. I’m just really stupid for doing this in the first place. I’m glad you saved me.”

Maybe it was the pain potion talking, but Draco couldn’t keep his feelings in any longer; Harry’s sad eyes were too much to bear. “I couldn’t bloody let you stay like that, could I? I love you, you dolt.”

Harry’s expression changed from one of sadness to one of shock. “But at the club…” he said.

Draco pulled his hand away and rubbed his face in frustration and embarrassment. “You were so drunk I didn’t want to take advantage of you,” he explained. “Weasley has been pestering me for weeks about my feelings. I wouldn’t have been able to heal you the way I did if I didn’t have feelings for you.” He glanced at Harry when he didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry, I should’ve kept it to my—”. But Draco was cut off by Harry’s lips crashing into his.

It was messy and desperate and had entirely too much teeth but it was the best kiss Draco ever had. It was like Harry was pouring himself into him and he was addicted. He reached up his hand to tangle it in Harry’s mane, bringing him closer. Harry climbed on top of him and Draco rose to meet him, only to cry out in intense pain. It felt like his chest was tearing. _Dumb move,_ he thought to himself.

Harry jumped off as though he were stung. “Shit, Draco. You’re still healing.” He helped him settle back down into the pillows. He then let out a sheepish grin as he said, “sorry. I’ve just been waiting for that for a long time.”

Draco let out a breathy laugh. “Me too. Let’s wait until we’re both stitched back together to try that again, yeah?”

Harry nodded in agreement and he settled back into the chair.

“You don’t care about the whole 5th cousins thing?” Draco chanced.

Harry only shrugged. “Technically it’s not fair since I’ve been hate-crushing on you since 3rd Year.” Draco let out a choked laugh at that. “I feel like all purebloods are related somehow anyway. 5th cousins is like nothing in reality, is it?”

It was Draco’s turn to shrug. “I won’t freak out if you won’t freak out.”

Harry laughed at that. “You know, I’ve been reading this book for so long trying to figure out what my Ithaca is. I couldn’t pick a place that I’ve ever called home.” Draco raised an eyebrow at that.

“Not even Hogwarts?”

Harry shook his head. “Not really, no. But I realized that home doesn’t need to be a place. It can rest with a person.” He took a deep breath. “I think you’re my Ithaca, Draco.”

Draco felt warm at that. Never would he imagine that coming out of Harry Potter’s mouth. “I’m your Ithaca?” he repeated lamely.

Harry nodded. “I’ve never had to fake it with you. You’ve never asked me to hide the darker parts of myself. You’re home; you’re Ithaca.”

Draco was silent for a long moment. Harry was suddenly worried that he had scared Draco off. But then he said, “I know we just said we’d cool it until we healed but could you kiss me again?”

Harry just laughed and obliged, happy that things seemed to be looking up for once.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Harry was finally free of the dark magic remnants and he felt so exhilaratingly liberated it astounded him. His magic was stronger and more controlled and he didn’t feel the dark shadow as strongly over him. He didn’t know how heavily dark magic could lay on someone; he wasn’t aware of how much it could alter one’s disposition. No wonder Snape was always such a bully, even if that didn’t excuse him.

Of course, he still had those times of intense sadness as he pondered all of the loss he had suffered as of late, but without all of that darkness inside of him he felt so much lighter. Confessing his feelings to Draco helped as well, he was sure.  

To get Harry on the up and up finally, the American specialist had him suffer through a week of lengthy Native American rituals that included steaming himself, smudging around his forehead, and picking up some intense Cherokee spiritual cleansing spells. They had successfully, albeit painfully, forced the remnants out: it was like an exorcism only less head spinning and vomiting—well, without the head spinning at least.

The full moon, it turns out, didn’t affect Harry at all. In fact, he wasn’t presenting any werewolf-like tendencies. On the contrary, it seemed that he was doomed to be porcelain white due to the increase in vampirism into his system. They had advised him of wearing sunblock when going outside and it almost made him burst out laughing: what a lame vampire, he couldn’t help but think. His canines were slightly pointier but he wasn’t craving anyone’s blood, thankfully. Harry didn’t seem to care about more appearance changes, though. He was just glad to be alive.

Draco, however, was not so fortunate on the lycanthrope side of things. He felt like he was going out of his mind during the full moon, running primarily on emotional response and not being able to speak (unless you counted grunts and growls, in which case, sure). He was in his head enough to know that he shouldn’t roam around unless he wanted to cause further damage to himself, but it only served to make him even more restless. He had slept the entire day after, worrying Remus quite a bit.

“I just didn’t get any rest the night before,” Draco had explained. “I was wide awake and feral.”

Remus wasn’t happy. “24 hours though? That’s a long time to be out.”

“Seeing as I was out for five days I don’t see 24 hours being an issue. The Healers haven’t said anything to me about it.”

Still frowning, Remus gave Draco those dreaded words: “I’m going to have Bill check you out anyway.” Draco groaned in response.

Draco’s Healers were all very kind to him for being the son of a Malfoy. When he was finally onto the stage of learning to walk by himself again, having atrophied quite a bit of muscle from being bedridden for a month, they didn’t laugh when he struggled or fell. He wondered if it had to do more with Harry sitting in on those physical therapy sessions with him for morale than their professionalism.

Harry would smile encouragingly at him from across the room as Draco shuffled along with a Healer spotting him, sometimes saying innocuous things like “You got this” to push him along. Harry would attend any session he was allowed in, even if Draco felt extremely embarrassed while exerting way too much energy trying to cast a simple _Lumos Maxima_. Harry would only smile encouragingly, not commenting on his apparent atrophied core. This new core business overall was terribly exhausting and if he didn’t save Harry he’d regret tearing it in two in the first place. If he called on his healing powers ever again, he’d want to make sure not to overexert himself. He asked Remus for books on natural healers to help navigate his new power, knowing in the back of his mind it would be helpful for the upcoming war that was sure to ensue.

Harry’s scars on his arms were now prominent, having finally been able to receive the magical intervention he needed for the bleeding to stop. Harry had crawled into Draco’s bed late one night to show him, knowing that Draco was well enough now to handle shifting to let him in without causing pain. Draco could tell that Harry was very self-conscious about the milky white lines that ran top to bottom on his inner forearms, even if they weren’t very noticeable against his pale complexion. Draco only traced them gently with his fingers and smiled at Harry. “You match me now,” he said, trying to ease the tension.

Harry was taken aback. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Draco shrugged the shoulder of his dressing gown to the side to show Harry his Fenrir bite around his bicep, still a light red shade that most likely would never whiten up. Harry had never seen it before, Draco wearing long sleeves throughout the summer, and was shocked by how large the bite actually was.

He reached out and asked “Can I?” At Draco’s nod, Harry let his fingers roam softly over the crescent shape. Draco closed his eyes as Harry’s fingers lingered over the bite, his cool skin feeling nice against his arm. “Is it bad that I feel a little better that you have a mark too?” Harry asked.

Draco just laughed. “And I thought the horcrux was what made you such a twat.”

“I didn’t mean—I’m not happy that you got bitten…” Harry began, but Draco cut him off with a quick kiss, melting Harry’s concerns.

“You’re fine, Potter,” Draco reassured.

Harry grinned goofily at him. “I like when you do that.”

“Only thing to keep your mouth shut,” Draco quipped, but he had to admit that he also liked when he kissed Harry. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite things to do, much to the amusement of Remus, who had walked in on them more times to count. Draco hoped that they’d be able to continue their tentative relationship outside of the privacy of St. Mungo’s.

“Speaking of horcruxes,” Harry said, “I’ve been doing some research.”

“Does that mean Hermione’s been doing some research?”

Harry flushed. “Well, I’m sure she’s been reading too but Remus actually got the books for me.”

“What a guy.”

Harry nudged him gently in response. “I actually _do_ think some of my being a twat as you so graciously call it had to do with the horcrux. It can apparently possess those who are near to it. Everything about Second Year makes sense now.”

Draco’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at the mention of their Second Year. He was painfully aware of his father’s hand in the whole mess with Ginny and felt a little twinge of guilt every time he thought about it. “That was a horcrux you think?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “He possessed Gin. She always says it felt horrible and almost like a Dementor crowding around her. I remember her being very irritable with Ron during that time. Stupid diary.”

Draco perked up as he realized “It was destroyed, wasn’t it? That’s one down.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know how many more he could have.”

“I bet Dumbledore has an idea.”

“Do I tell him about knowing? I don’t think they told him what’s going on: violates patient-Healer privileges doesn’t it?”

“You never know with him: I’m sure he already knows because you needed to leave the school for treatment. You’re technically in Hogwarts’s care during school.”

Harry cursed under his breath. “You’re probably right.” He sunk into the pillows and closed his eyes. “You’re right though: one down.”

Draco gazed down at Harry and couldn’t help but smile at the view. His new, thick frames he got after shattering his in the horrid affair complimented his new looks well. Harry, sensing this, opened his eyes and glared. “What?” he asked.

Draco laughed. “You’re just cute. Sorry.”

Harry’s cheeks coloured a bit at that. “You mean my dad is cute.”

Draco shook his head. “No. You’re cute. You’re still you. I can see through the Black genes, you know.”

Harry smiled at that. “You’re distracting me from the task at hand.”

Draco settled into the pillows as well, letting out a yawn. “The task at hand can wait until tomorrow.” He gingerly curled into Harry, still a bit sore in the chest area. “I’m knackered.”

Harry laughed and wrapped his arms around Draco. “You think they’ll be mad if I’m out of bed tonight?”

Draco, already drifting off, was hearing none of it. “They’ll find you eventually. Shh, I’m dreaming now.”

Harry rolled his eyes but nonetheless stayed put and let Draco drift off on him.

The next morning, they both awoke to a very cross Remus. “I think we’re in trouble,” Draco said, nudging Harry awake as he saw the angered werewolf, crossed arms and parental glare in place.

“Too right you are,” Remus responded as Harry reached for his glasses.

“Wotcher, Remus,” he said cheekily as his vision cleared to see his parental figure. The glare intensified. “What did I do?”

“Oh I dunno,” Remus responded sarcastically, “maybe sneaking out of bed past hours and not letting anyone know where you were.”

Harry squinted his eyes in confusion. “Didn’t know I was chained to the hospital bed.”

“You’re getting smart with me.”

“Aren’t I always?”

Remus sent a warning look, his eyes were almost glowing.

Harry, realizing Remus was genuinely upset with him, quieted down. “Sorry,” he said. “I wanted to show Draco my scars and we fell asleep.”

“The nightwitch firecalled me at 3 am in a frenzy, unable to locate you. I almost had a heart attack.”

Harry frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m surprised they didn’t check here first.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose in a combination of frazzled nerves and overtiredness. He was in a mismatched jumper and slacks combination, alluding to the fact that he must have rushed over to the hospital during the night. Harry felt bad. “Just alert her next time, okay? I’ve had years taken off my life with that call; I thought you were abducted.”

Harry nodded and smiled sheepishly at Remus. “I really am sorry. I didn’t realize they’d freak out.”

“You’re the savior of the wizarding world: of course they’re going to freak out if you go missing.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed at the title. “Why did they call you, though? Wouldn’t they have called the school?”

“They couldn’t call the Dursleys so they called me.”

“Shouldn’t the Dursleys not even be on the list? Not technically related anymore am I?”

“That one’s a little complicated. Dumbledore tried explaining it to me but I think since Lily technically adopted you and sacrificed herself for you, the protective magic stays.”

Harry rubbed his face tiredly, showing off his forearm scar as he lifted his arm. “I need to sit with that man for a few hours. Why does he explain this to everyone but me?” He rolled off of Draco’s bed to make some coffee.

Remus grabbed his arm as he made to pass by. “What?” he asked.

“I just realized you said you wanted to show Draco your scars. I didn’t realize they finally healed you. Can I see?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably but showed him anyway, looking away in shame as Remus felt his forearms gently. He caught Draco’s eye who just gave a half grimace in return as he reached for one of the many books off of his bed stand, happy to not be in the path of Remus’s anger. “Do they hurt anymore?”

Harry shook his head. “Nah. They just remind me of how stupid I am is all.”

Remus pulled Harry into an unexpected hug at that. It was all Harry could do not to burst into tears as he felt the paternal warmth radiate off of the werewolf. “You’re not stupid, okay?” he said, squeezing tightly.

“A bit cowardly though, don’t you think?” Harry replied.

Remus released Harry to hold him at arms length, looking him in the eye. “No. Not cowardly either.”

Harry’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears. He just felt so ashamed of what he had put everyone through. “I just wanted to see my dads. I was just so tired. I wanted the pain to stop,” he said quietly, finally admitting it outside of therapy, only for Remus to pull him back into a crushing embrace. “I’m sorry, Remus.”

“Don’t apologize for you pain, Hare,” he replied. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

Harry was crying now. “I don’t feel very strong right now.”

Remus rubbed small circles into Harry’s back as he had a mini-breakdown. “You’re so strong. And I’m so proud of you for sticking out therapy like you’ve been. I know how tough it can be.”

Draco wanted to get out of bed to embrace Harry at that but was still struggling to walk on his own. He could only watch from afar as Remus comforted Harry. He didn’t know what either of them did to deserve Remus in their lives but he was glad for him. He was shocked at how gentle and caring Remus could be after knowing he was raised by Fenrir Greyback who was gruff at best. However, Draco noticed the soft spot Fenrir had for Remus: he somehow found himself appreciative of the elder wolf for taking his quasi parent away from an abusive path. He wondered if that’s what Remus was trying to do for him in turn.

As he watched the two settle into a corner of his room and unpack Harry’s feelings, Draco just knew he had to be released in time to get Harry to the garden for the winter holiday. They were only two weeks away. He was more determined to get himself walking and casting at normal levels again.

Of course, as luck would have it, pushing himself so hard set him back in the healing process as he almost crippled due to magical exhaustion about 3 days into his resolved determination. Covered in sweat, he attempted a Patronus against the Healer’s wishes. He felt that familiar tearing in his chest and hit the ground.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Harry asked him as the Healer settled Draco back into bed. He, too, wasn’t released just yet, still seeing a Mind Healer for long hours every day. It had something to do with having a horcrux inside of him that made the Healers cautious in releasing him too soon. “I thought that was my thing,” he quipped.

Draco blanched. “Please don’t say that,” he said.

Harry laughed. “Sorry. Coping mechanism. But seriously. Are you determined to be stuck here forever? You tore your core a bit again, it seems.”

Draco sighed in frustration. “Don’t remind me. My chest is screaming at me.” It felt almost like the first few days of his healing process all over again, but slightly less painful.

“Why don’t you take pain potion?”

“I don’t want to feel fuzzy. I’ll grin and bear it, thanks.”

The Healer interjected, “You’ll pass out from the pain if you don’t take something to alleviate it. I think you’re still in a bit of shock.”

The pain _was_ increasing. Draco was so angry with himself. “I swear to Merlin if I have to have Christmas dinner with this shit hospital food I’m going to scream.” They stuck an IV back into his hand, much to Draco’s dismay. “Could’ve fucking warned me couldn’t’ve you?” he spat.

“Uh oh, he’s going full Malfoy,” Harry commented dryly. “Next he’ll be demanding to speak to your supervisor, claiming that his father will hear about this.” The Healer couldn’t suppress the snort from coming out of himself.

As the potion began to subside some of the pain, Draco sighed in relief as he said affectionately, “Fuck off, Potter.”

“Ah, there it is. Full circle.” Draco just glared at him. “Done cursing, love?”

“It’s not funny. I’ve just set myself back for Merlin knows how long.”

The Healer ran a light scan over Draco. “Well, I’m putting you back on bedrest but I don’t think for long. A couple days and you’ll be right as rain.” Draco groaned in annoyance. “You didn’t lose any of the core, just tore it a bit. Please don’t cast above the level you’re ready for next time, okay?”

“Learned my lesson,” was all Draco said in reply, moodily looking out towards his window as he felt the potion make the world a bit muffled. A week and a half left to make it to break and he’d all but shattered it. He closed his eyes, not used to the potion after being off of it for so long, and drifted off.

The bed rest was terrible the second time around, Draco had decided. He wanted to be working towards recovery and once again he was forced to “get lots of rest” and “take it easy”. Ever since turning all Draco ever was was ill, it seemed. He couldn’t stand it.

His parents hadn’t been able to visit since Voldemort had returned. He wondered if his father knew about the horcruxes and how many there were. He doubted he could weasel the information out of him.

Remus, however, was back to bothering him daily. He was secretly glad for it: Harry was set for release soon and he needed someone to spend time with.

Molly even came to see him instead of simply dropping off sweets. She thanked him for saving Harry and said she couldn’t wait to have him at Christmas. He felt as though he were living in the Twilight Zone. If only his father could see this exchange.

He was moving around again and gaining strength back when Harry left a few days later. He felt deeply saddened by his departure. On the one hand, Draco was glad that they cleared him to leave on the condition of weekly Mind Healer sessions. On the other, Draco was fearful of what their relationship would become outside of the walls of St. Mungo’s. Would they have to hide away from the world? Would his parents be in danger? It made his head spin. Harry had just kissed him goodbye and told him not to worry about it: that it would be fine.

A week later, just in time for the holiday break, Draco was given clearance. While he was still healing, like Harry, they had given him the condition to return weekly for spell work and physical therapy, with a Healer coming to Hogwarts after the holiday.

Draco was finally going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe we're finally getting to the point that the oneshot was set at? Only took over a year ;). Obviously, this fic has turned into it's own realm so treat the oneshot as an AU to the AU as the plot has shifted and turned along the way.  
> As always, thanks for reading and see you next time!


	15. Chapter 15

When Draco arrived at Grimmauld Place, everyone was already there to greet him. Hogwarts had let out a few days prior to his release from St. Mungo’s, but Draco was looking forward to having the rest of the month off of class to catch up on reading and enjoying a non-hospital bed.

He felt awkward with his Healer-mandated walking stick: it wasn’t nearly as cool as his father’s and he was much too young to be sporting it but he wasn’t all the way up to snuff yet. They had told him that he should get plenty of rest still, not wanting his core to become damaged again. Remus must have passed it along to Molly because as soon as he was through the door he was immediately led to the large chaise lounge in the sitting room, the matriarch kicking Ron out of his seat.

“Really, it’s fine, Mrs. Weasley,” Draco tried to say, “I can just sit at a chair.”

She wouldn’t hear any of it. “Nonsense, dear,” she said. “Ronald can do with less lazing about as it is. Now, come on,” she continued, laying a few pillows down, “we don’t want you secluded in your room but I have to insist you stay put here, alright?”

Draco sighed and resigned himself to Weasley coddling, settling into the chaise. Remus muttered something about dropping Draco’s things up in his room for him, leaving him with the entire Weasley clan.

Ron rolled his eyes behind his mother’s back. “Good to see you out of the hospital robes, mate,” he said. “Harry will be thrilled,” he winked at that. Draco flushed in embarrassment.

“Where is he, then?” Draco asked. Everyone else seemed to be milling about between the sitting room and kitchen.

“I think he’s in the tapestry room. Want me to get him?”

Draco shook his head. “Nah, that’s okay. I’m tired from travelling.” He closed his eyes. Molly began to shoo everyone from the room. “It’s okay Mrs. Weasley,” he said. “I actually like the noise. It was dreadfully quiet at St. Mungo’s.”

“Of course, of course,” she said, Draco smelling the empathy rolling off of her in waves. She rounded on her children anyway, telling them to not make too much noise while Draco rested. He was happy to be back.

It was night and day from his first arrival, he’d have to admit. The Weasleys had grown quite comfortable with Draco around, finally convinced he wasn’t feeding information back to his family. After Bill had helped him out, he felt as though he became part of the brood. It made him a bit warm to think about it.

When he awoke from his nap, only Ginny remained in the room, reading some sort of novel that Draco couldn’t make out through sleep-filled eyes. “Was I snoring or something?” Draco asked her. “Scare everyone out of the room?”

Ginny just laughed and looked up from her book. “It’s almost midnight,” she explained.

Draco frowned. “Nobody woke me for dinner?”

“You seemed to need the sleep more. You looked a bit dead on your feet when you came in and you didn’t budge even when Fred and George set off a Christmas cracker.” She disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a tray filled with chicken, vegetables, roasted potatoes, and a large glass of water. “Mum saved you this.” She placed the tray in Draco’s lap who took one sniff and his stomach growled, giving away his hunger.

“Your mum’s a saint,” he said before digging in. He was ravenous it turned out. Having something other than hospital food for the first time in a month was the best thing in the world to him. Well, almost the best thing in the world, he thought, as he watched Harry walk into the room.

He was wearing grey joggers and a dark green tshirt, wild dark hair falling messily into his eyes. His scars were prominently on display and he seemed at peace with it. “Looking very Slytherin,” Ginny commented.

Harry shrugged. “I’m still wearing my dad’s pajamas. Guess he liked green?” He sat down next to her. “What are you doing up this late anyway, Gin?”

It was Ginny’s turn to shrug. “Someone needed to be awake to feed him.”

“Uh, he is sitting right here and he could’ve managed,” Draco interrupted mid-chew, abandoning all table manners for the sake of deliciousness.

Harry and Ginny looked at each other knowingly but didn’t say anything. “I’m going up to bed,” Ginny said instead. “Night, you two.” She disappeared up the steps, leaving Draco and Harry alone.

“She’s alright,” Draco commented.

Harry just gave a small chuckle. “How was your trip here? Sorry I didn’t say hello before you fell asleep, I was trying to catch up on school work so I don’t completely fail out.”

“It was a bit tiring but I’m happy to be out of St. Mungo’s.”

Harry grinned. “That’s how I felt too.”

The two just looked at each other for a few moments, air thick with unspoken thoughts. Where would they go from here, Draco wondered.

After a long moment, Harry broke eye contact, effectively breaking the momentary spell. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. It’s been boring.”

Draco smiled at that. “Just in time for Christmas ham.”

The Black Heir laughed in response. Draco loved that laugh. “You need to spend less time with Ron. You’ve become obsessed with food.”

Draco leaned back into the chaise after finishing his meal. Harry took the tray from him. “I’m not crippled, you know. I can make it to the kitchen and back.”

“Sure, love,” Harry commented sarcastically before disappearing into the kitchen. “Want a cuppa’?” he called.

“Yes, please. Cream and three sugars.”

“It’s past midnight.”

“I said what I said, Potter.” There was that laugh again. It filled Draco with a great warmth to hear him laugh so frequently again. He briefly considered letting the garden go: Harry seemed to be healing on his own. He couldn’t justify it though: Harry had almost crossed to see his fathers and he needed to know that that wasn’t necessary.

Harry came back into the room a few minutes later with the requested tea, which Draco took gratefully. “You do look good in green,” Draco commented, “suits your skin tone.”

Harry gave a wry smile in return as he sat next to Draco on the large chaise, enjoying a cup of his own. “You’re just obsessed with your House,” he commented.

Draco took the opportunity to lean into Harry, resting his head against his shoulder. It felt comforting to finally have confirmation that he was still breathing after a few days away from him. “I’ve missed you,” the blonde murmured.

Harry wrapped his free arm around Draco, happy for their moment alone and away from prying eyes. Draco’s admission was enough confirmation that he wanted to continue their tentative relationship outside of St. Mungo’s. Harry was thrilled. “You weren’t there long after me.”

“It was lonely.”

“I thought Slytherins were all about solitude.”

Draco was nonplussed. “I’ve had enough solitude, I think.”

Harry set his cup down on the side table and rested his head atop Draco’s. “Is this weird?” he asked, not wanting to overstep.

“Not really, no,” replied Draco. “I think it’s nice.”

The two sat in amiable silence after that, Draco slowly sipping on his tea, listening to the creaks and gives of the house and enjoying the warmth emitting from his…well he didn’t really know what he and Harry were did he?

After a time, Harry let out a big yawn. “Do you want to go up to bed?” he asked.

Draco flushed a bit at that. “I’m actually not sure that I can weather the stairs,” he admitted.

“Have you tried yet?”

“Not yet.”

“First time for everything, yeah?” Harry smiled at him. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Draco felt a bit ashamed by the fact that he’d need help walking but didn’t refuse it. One by one, they slowly made it up to the first landing, Draco’s joints aching with each step. He’d need to get a bit fitter if he was going to take Harry to the garden, he realized.

Luck was on his side in that regard, it turns out, because Kingsley Shacklebolt was assigned to doing morning walks around Muggle London with Draco each day to work his legs out—Healer mandated.

The odd pairing would walk to a small café a block or two away from Grimmauld each day and eat a light breakfast. Draco would dip his chocolate croissant into his tea and listen to Kingsley attempt to make small talk with a known Death Eater’s son. Kingsley was good with people, Draco realized. He rarely mentioned the war or his parents: Kingsley would just ask his opinion on teenager things like Quidditch teams and what subjects he was interested in. He wondered if he acquired that skill when he became Head Auror and had to deal with bureaucracy at every turn.

“You’ve gotten much better,” Kingsley remarked a few days into their morning strolls.

Draco looked up from his tea at the rare bit of praise he’s heard Kingsley dole out. “It’s really just the stairs that get me tired,” Draco replied. “I’m feeling much better already, though. Thanks for walking with me.”

“Can’t let you wander the streets alone can I?” But Kingsley was smiling. He had taken to the demi-werewolf and his dry wit.

By the end of the week, Draco was in better shape than when he arrived. While he was still using his cane, he could get up and down the stairs without assistance, which is what he needed to get Harry to the garden.

He chose a very early morning to do so, just a few days before Christmas. He leaned over Harry’s bed around 4am and in a hushed whisper said, “Oy, Potter. Wake up!”

Harry, apparently a light sleeper, jumped into action, wand pointed in Draco’s face. Draco, not one to show fear, just quirked an eyebrow as he waited for Harry to realize what was going on. Once recognition shone in the Chosen One’s eyes, they narrowed in exasperation. “You’re kidding, right? I could’ve hexed you.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, constant vigilance and all that.” Harry huffed in annoyance. “It’s not like your hex work is something to owl home about, is it.”

“Prat,” Harry quipped, but it did lighten the mood. Harry cast a quick _Tempus_ and scowled again. “What could you possibly need from me at 4 in the morning?”

Draco crossed his arms at that. “Guess you don’t want your Christmas present, then. Alright, Potter.”

He made to go back to bed but Harry gripped his arm. “Not so fast. I’m always ready for Christmas presents.” Draco let out a small chuckle at that. “But why this early?”

“How are we going to properly sneak away when everyone is awake?”

Harry’s eyes widened as he reached for his glasses, almost side-swiping Draco in the process. “Sorry,” Harry grimaced, “I forget how long my arms are sometimes.” He put his glasses on and the world came into focus. “How are we getting away without a guard?”

“We won’t need a guard where we’re going. Technically we won’t be stepping foot outside of Black property.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed again. “What do you mean?”

Draco waved his hand in annoyance. “Nevermind that, we’re burning moonlight. Do you want to come or not? It’s really cool.”

Harry rose from the bed. “Fine, but it better be safe.”

“We’re the only ones with access to this place currently so no worries there.”

Harry nodded at that, feeling less weary about this secret late night venture. He was quite surprised, however, when Draco led him to the tapestry room.

“Why are we here? I think I’ve stared myself to death at this thing.”

Draco directed him to the fireplace, finagling with his wand and walking stick at the same time, almost tripping. Harry grabbed his elbow in time, though. Draco smiled at him sheepishly. “Thanks,” he said. “You ready for this?”

Harry shrugged, making Draco laugh again.

“Such a Potter,” he commented. He wrapped the fireplace with his wand like he did all those months ago, intoning “ _Familius._ ”

The fireplace, as Draco hoped, sprang to life, emitting the familiar glow that he saw when he visited the Manor last. He smiled as Harry stood there dumbstruck. “Where are we going?”

“Black Manor,” Draco explained. He took his hand. “Come on.”

They stepped through to Black Manor where Harry was surprised at the similarities between the tapestry rooms. “This is Black Manor?”

Draco nodded. “All of the Ancient and Noble Houses have Manors. I think this one is in Scotland somewhere. Never quite learned the coordinates.”

Harry looked out the window to see rolling hills and a bit of the sea. “Glasgow?” he guessed.

Draco shrugged. “Perhaps.” He took Harry’s arm again. “Anyway, I’m not here to show you the house: I want to show you the garden.”

Harry blinked in quasi-recognition. Draco’s eyes narrowed at the look. “The garden?” he asked.

Draco nodded.

“Okay, let’s go then.”

Draco was getting nervous as he led him through the large French doors and into the garden. How would Harry react to all of this, he wondered. He knew it would eventually be a good surprise but he knew how fragile the dark-haired teen was. He didn’t want to stir anything back up.

Harry was staring at the garden, fixated on its curving landscape and eccentric topiary as they walked further into its maze. “Draco,” he said, voice a little high.

Draco turned to him. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want you to freak out.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I’m not freaking out?”

“First, I feel like we’re being watched,” Harry began in a low voice. “I know you said nobody can be here but I swear there are eyes on me.” Draco didn’t say anything yet, wanting Harry to continue. He took a deep breath. “Okay and second,” he seemed to be losing some nerve. “Second, I-I dunno how it’s possible to be honest but-I think I’ve been here.”

Draco’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “You’ve been here?”

Harry nodded tightly. “When I-you know…I think I was here briefly. I recognize the shrubbery.”

Draco sat at a bench, suddenly unable to support himself in the shock of it all. “You said the Healers think you died briefly, yeah?” he asked.

Harry sat next to him and nodded. “Yeah. That’s how the horcrux left me. It bought me time to be healed apparently.”

Draco nodded in understanding. “I think you were here, then.”

Harry shook his head. “How is that possible? I didn’t even know about this place.”

Draco swallowed and ran his hand nervously through his hair. “Well it’s kind of your gift. This garden is special.”

“Special how? I thought you were just showing me some of my heritage.”

“Draco shook his head. “No. Well, sort of I guess. But that’s not the reason. This is the Garden of Souls.” Harry’s face scrunched up in confusion. “The only connection to the Manor is through Grimmauld as those are Lord owned properties. Nobody who has intent to harm the Heir or Lord can come through the wards. It’s really old magic.”

“Garden of Souls?” Harry echoed in a small voice, clearly only hanging on to that part of the conversation.

“The Black Family has a connection to the veil.” Harry shuddered at the word, remembering Sirius falling through last year. “It’s legend that Mother Magik blessed the family at some point: unique eyes are always a tell for that. Anyway, when members of the Black Family die, they can still converse with other family members in this garden. The veil is nearly nonexistent here. They’re more than a spirit here. You could touch them. I used to visit my grandfather here a lot as a child.”

“I can touch them?”

Draco nodded. “Your uncle told me not to bring you here until winter break. I wanted to bring you in the summer but he said it wasn’t the right time.”

“You were here without me?” Harry was beginning to get upset.

“I wanted to make sure it would work. It did. I didn’t talk to your dad or anything.”

Harry seemed to understand the gravity of this garden. “I can see my dad,” he said, eyes wide.

Draco nodded. “See him, talk to him, hug him.” Harry looked to be on edge and Draco grabbed his hand gently. “You just need to call for him.”

Harry huffed out a shaky laugh. “Would’ve been nice to know about before the suicide attempt,” he commented, knowing full well that he’d probably make an attempt on his life anyway.

Draco looked down. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. I thought Regulus knew best, seeing as he pretty much lives here.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “No, it’s good. I’d still have Him inside me if I didn’t do what I did.” He squeezed Draco’s hand. “Thanks for this.”

Draco nodded. “Wanna give it a go?” he asked.

Harry looked a little frightened at that. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Hello is a good start. Call his name.”

Harry drew a shaky breath, and called out his father’s name. “Sirius?” Nothing. He sighed and looked at Draco in exasperation and anxiety.

Draco nodded encouragingly at him. “Give it a minute. Call out a bit louder.”

Harry nodded, gaining some nerve. “Sirius,” he called, louder this time.

They waited for about a minute until a figure emerged from the shadows. He looked much younger and healthier than when Harry last saw him. He looked closer to Harry than how he did after Azkaban, lines seemingly gone from his face and his skin a pale but healthy hue. When he saw the two of them, Sirius looked confused. “Reg?” He turned around and looked back comically. “How’d you do that? I was just with you over there.” He looked at Draco. “Draco Malfoy?” he said.

Harry was rendered unable to speak, just staring at the person he’d been so consumed with guilt over for the past seven months. “’Lo, Sirius,” Draco said, standing to greet him.

Sirius circled him in suspicion. “What would you be doing here? And you smell like Rem.” His eyes widened. “ _You smell like Rem._ Wow, what did I miss?”

“Quite a bit, honestly.”

“Why are you hanging out with my brother?”

“I’m not-I’m not Reg,” Harry said, finding his voice finally.

Sirius walked over and gave him a once over, frowning. “No, no I guess you aren’t, are you? You’re not shiny around the edges like him.” Draco noticed that Sirius wasn’t exactly shiny around the edges either but didn’t question it. “Who are you, then?”

Harry swallowed nervously. How was Sirius going to take this? “It’s me,” he said. “It’s Harry.”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Funny.”

Draco chimed in, “He isn’t lying. It really is him.”

Sirius waved Draco off. “Come off it. Harry looks exactly like Jamie, not exactly like, well,” the laughter in Sirius’s eyes was dimming as he began to put the pieces together. “Surely you can’t be-“

Harry’s eyes were beginning to well up as he began to feel completely overwhelmed.

Sirius sat next to him suddenly, engulfing him into a hug. “Oh no. Don’t cry, please don’t do that.” Harry heard Sirius sniff him (he assumed to verify his identity with his canine senses). “Merlin, it really is you, isn’t it?” Sirius released him from his hug and held Harry at arms length, scanning his tear-streaked face. “How did this happen, babe?”

Harry sniffed, wiping the tears from his face as he mentally told himself to get a grip. This was supposed to be a happy moment. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Kid, I got some time. It’s been utterly boring here.”

So Harry explained everything about his sixteenth birthday: how there was an adoption spell that broke, that Lily had to have known about it, that Remus thought they were Confunded, how hard it was getting used to his new face. He carefully edited out the parts about the manic depressive episodes and the suicide attempt. He didn’t want to completely shock his father. When he finished, Sirius was staring at him gobsmacked.

“That’s insane,” he said. “I can’t believe you had to go through all that.” But then he smiled. “I have a son.” His voice was so full on wonderment and joy that it made Harry’s heart break at the thought of losing the opportunity to be raised by Sirius.

“Don’t you mean had?” he asked. “Kind of not alive, are you,” Harry continued uncomfortably.

Sirius grinned. “That’s the best part!” he exclaimed. Harry looked up, temporarily offended until Sirius continued. “I’m not dead.”

Harry’s look of offense turned to one of shock. “What do you mean?”

Sirius shook his head. “I’m not dead. I just fell through the veil and landed here.”

Draco, who had been sitting on the bench across from them to give them some space, couldn’t resist interrupting. “What?” he said in disbelief. “Is this what Regulus was keeping from me?”

“So you _have_ been hanging around my brother. Interesting,” he joked. “But really. I’m alive. When I fell through and landed here, I thought I had died. I couldn’t get into the Manor and was pretty much confined to the garden. I didn’t feel quite right so it made sense that I had passed. I tried to cross to see Lily but I couldn’t and then realized what must have happened.”

“What happened?” Harry was still confused.

“I was damaged. From Azkaban and falling through the veil. The Garden has been healing me. I’m actually almost ready to leave. I made it to the porch a few days ago. I was going to surprise you guys at Christmas but it looks like you’ve surprised me instead.” Sirius smiled at Harry again.

“Wow,” was all Harry said. All of that guilt and pain and it didn’t even matter. Sirius was going to come home. Harry was so happy he didn’t even care about the past seven months. “I can’t believe this.”

“I can’t believe Jamie and I made you.” He then sat up in realization. “Jamie! He’s here. Do you want to say hello?”

Harry looked frightened all over again. “I dunno if that’s such a good idea…” he began, but Sirius cut him off.

“Nonsense! He’ll be so happy to see you. Oy, Jamie!” he called.

Harry looked at Draco in alarm who shrugged. “It’ll be nice,” he said.

James soon appeared and had a similar reaction to Harry’s appearance. “How did you do that, Reg?” James looked exactly like the old Harry minus the eyes. Harry felt an ache in his chest when he noticed how young his father looked: he was 22.

“Not Reg,” Sirius said.

“Not Reg?” James repeated.

“Nope. That’s Harry Potter, that is.”

James stared at Sirius in shock. “That’s not funny, mate.”

“I’m being dead serious I assure you.” Sirius immediately cringed when he realized the bad pun. “Sorry. I’m being truthful.”

James looked at Harry in awe. “Harry? I haven’t checked in on you in a little bit. What happened?”

Harry lost his ability to speak again and looked at Sirius helplessly. “We might have been a bit naughty, Jamie.”

James looked back and forth between the two doppelgangers. Suddenly, it made sense. “Us?”

Sirius nodded, grinning. “Us,” he confirmed.

James laughed. “Makes sense with his proclivity to get into all sorts of trouble.” He looked at Harry. “Can I give you a hug? Haven’t been able to do that from afar.”

Harry only nodded and James swopped him up in a tight embrace. “Oh, Harry,” he said. He squeezed a little tighter, as if attempting to anchor him to the spot. “I’ve missed you so much, my baby.”

Harry was suddenly crying openly, unable to keep his emotions in check. He never dreamed that he would be able to speak to James, let alone hug him. It made him ache for Lily, even if he thought she had tricked him.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” James said, pulling away finally. He wiped a few tears from Harry’s face gently. “How did this change of appearance occur?”

“Adoption spell broke,” Harry explained, too overwhelmed to say much more.

James sat. “Adoption spell? Lily?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “I think so.”

James rubbed his face tiredly. “Why would she do that? You’re 16 now, yeah?”

Harry nodded.

“You must be pretty powerful to have broken an adoption spell from Lily no less.”

Harry laughed softly, thinking back to his accidental magic tantrums. “You have no idea, Dad.”

James’s face crumpled slightly at being called ‘Dad.’ He looked at Sirius. “You’re going to take good care of him, right?”

Sirius nodded. “Of course, Jamie,” he said softly, sitting next to him and taking his hand.

James nodded fervently. “You can’t let Him get him. He needs to be alive and happy.”

Sirius kissed the back of James’s hand to try and comfort him. He knew it must be hard knowing Harry would eventually have to leave the Garden for awhile. “I will make sure of it. Actually,” he turned to Harry, as if realizing he was still there. “Harry. I know this is sudden and you’re overwhelmed by all of this new information, but what do you think of living here?”

Harry looked surprised. “Here?”

Sirius nodded. “It’s unplottable. Safer than Hogwarts probably. And you can see your Dad whenever you want.”

Harry seemed to light up at that, James too. “I’d really love that, actually.”

They spent the rest of the early morning catching up with Harry’s past seven months, once again, aside from the bad bits. Sirius and James began to develop a plan to get to the bottom of the adoption spell placed on Harry and Harry had never felt more loved or cared for.

As they were leaving with a promise from Sirius to be at Grimmauld in just a week, Harry kissed Draco. It was the first kiss they had since that searing moment in St. Mungo’s. It set Draco’s nerves on fire in the best way. “Thank you for this,” Harry said. “It was amazing.”

Draco only smiled back. “Happy Christmas, Harry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Harry!  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. We are now entering uncharted territory past the oneshot: can't wait to share what happens next!  
> Thanks for reading and I'll see you next time.


	16. Chapter 16

When Harry and Draco stepped through the fireplace they had thought that they had successfully finished their jaunt without anyone noticing their disappearance—at least Harry did. Draco’s sensitive hearing alerted him to the frantic footsteps and whispering of Remus Lupin. “Where are they: you have got to be kidding me!” the older werewolf exclaimed to himself.

Draco winced and turned to Harry. “Are you ready for a parental meltdown?” he asked, hearing Remus running down the stairs at the sounds of Draco’s voice.

Harry turned to him wide-eyed. “What do you mean?” Remus had burst into the room at this point and let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh.”

“Where were you two?” he demanded. They had got to stop doing this to the poor man, Draco thought. He looked a bit crazed as he stared the two down.

“Why are you up this early? It’s not even dawn.”

Remus glared at Draco, who quieted instantly. “I swear if you took the Cloak again to sneak off to the club I will be beyond disappointed in the both of you.”

Harry shook his head. “No, it wasn’t anything like that.”

Remus rounded on the bespectacled teen. “I don’t understand why you are always looking for trouble. There is a madman out to get you and you just casually stroll out the door like it’s nothing at all?”

Harry flushed. “I didn’t casually stroll out the door, Remus: we were at Black Manor.”

The anger seemed to deflate out of Remus from that and was replaced with worry. “Why would you want to go there? Through the fireplace I’m assuming?” He glanced at the fireplace in concern.

Draco found his voice again and nodded. “This house is the only one with access. It’s not like someone was hiding out there. I wanted to show Harry the Garden; do you know of it?”

Remus suddenly understood, sitting himself in the nearest armchair. “The Garden,” he repeated. “Of course, why didn’t I think of that?”

Draco shrugged. “Does it work for you?”

The former professor frowned. “I’m not actually sure about that. Sirius mentioned it to me a few times when we were kids. Did you get to see him?”

Harry nodded and was suddenly smiling. “That’s the best part: Remus, he’s _alive_.”

“Don’t make jokes like that, please.” Remus blanched in distress.

“No, honestly, he’s alive and the Garden has been healing him.”

“How is that possible?”

“Let’s get some tea and we’ll fill you in.”

The trio moved to the kitchen and Harry and Draco told Remus about their entire adventure. Remus was smiling by the end of their tale. “That’s amazing,” he said. “Christmas?”

Draco nodded. “I think that’s why Regulus told me to wait until the winter holiday to bring Harry: he must have known that Sirius was alive.”

“I’m going to have to warn Molly about this: she’s not very fond of Sirius, is she?” Remus then squeezed Harry’s hand gently. “I’m so glad you got to talk to your Dads. I’m sure James was over the moon to meet you.”

Harry met his smile with his own, thinking back to that fatherly embrace. “It was amazing. And I get to see him whenever I want now. Finally a bit of luck.”

“I’m glad for it, if not a bit jealous.”

“We can see if the Garden will work for you.”

Remus frowned. “I dunno, maybe sometime. I think I’d be devastated for it not to work. I’ll just wait until Christmas.”

And wait they did. Remus had explained to Molly about Sirius’s return, who didn’t seem to be overall pleased about it but was nevertheless happy for Harry. She said she’d make enough food for everyone on Christmas, ex-convicts included.

Harry was thrilled to have his father coming back. He wouldn’t let him down this time: he was going to do everything right. He hoped that nobody mentioned anything to him about how he was the past few months. He didn’t want to make Sirius feel bad, especially since he was doing so well lately.

Ron and Hermione were also in good spirits: mainly to have Harry safe and alive, but also because he was going to have the opportunity to have a living parent. Even with a war looming, everyone seemed happy for it to be Christmastime.

When the day arrived, Harry was feeling very anxious. He was sitting out on the balcony for most likely the last time, Sirius probably wanting his room back when he came. He wasn’t smoking, which to him was quite a bit of progress from before he was in the hospital, even if he was itching for one. He was just letting the crisp London air fill his lungs, though, snow falling softly around. Draco found him there around mid-morning.

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” he said as he approached. Harry gave a little jump at that.

“You scared me,” he laughed. He gave Draco a quick peck, happy to be away from prying eyes for the moment. “Happy Christmas.”

Draco smiled. “You alright? Looks like you’ve been scratching your hand raw.”

Harry looked down to his hands, which he had been wringing for quite some time. However, he just nodded and looked back out onto the London skyline, pulling his hands away from each other. “Just a bit nervous,” he said sheepishly. Draco frowned anyway at the anxious behavior. Harry decided to change the subject. “Are you okay? First Christmas away from Malfoy Manor.”

Draco shuddered at the thought of his home. “Trust me, I don’t want to be there right now. I do miss Mum, though.”

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand gently at that. “I had a session yesterday. Christmas Eve of all bloody times: don’t Healers take holidays?”

The blonde snorted. “Healers can’t take holidays: what if someone got hurt? Injuries are very common during Christmas, you know.”

Harry rolled his eyes. It was almost out of place without a lit cigarette between his fingers: Draco was glad he shook the habit, even if he was scratching his hands to bits. He wondered if he should tell Remus about the new habit. “Anyway, they said I seem to be doing better but they also said I tend to swing high and low and I’m in a high swing.”

Draco nodded thoughtfully. “BPD?”

Harry shrugged. “Who knows? I think it’s too early to tell.”

They were quiet for a bit after that, lost in their own thoughts. “When do you think he’ll step through? Does he even have his wand?” Draco asked finally, unable to contain his curiosity from spilling out.

“Yeah, he fell through with it so I’d think he’d have it. And I dunno. Hopefully soon.”

“Are you nervous?”

Harry laughed. “A bit, yeah. I’ve never had a Dad before…a biological one, I mean. I feel like Remus is sometimes my dad with all of his fussing.”

Draco laughed at that. Harry liked seeing the poshness fade from his face when he smiled. “I called him my wolf dad when I was on pain potions.”

“You _didn’t_.”

Draco just nodded, barely able to contain his laughter. “I thought my father was going to lose it.”

“He is your wolf dad, though.”

“Well yeah but that doesn’t mean I should be running around telling everyone. Not about public displays like that.”

Harry laughed again. “I noticed. You’ll barely sit next to me when other people are around.”

The blonde shuffled uncomfortably at that. “I don’t want to make things hard for you. Attaching yourself to a Malfoy isn’t quite in vogue these days.”

There was that eye roll again. “Since when have I cared about what’s in vogue?” Harry sidled in closer to Draco, lifting his face towards him. “I care about you: that’s about it.”

“Soppy Gryffindors,” Draco commented, but was smiling nonetheless.

“Self-preserving Slytherins,” Harry replied, before meeting Draco’s lips with his own in a lazy kiss. Draco melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders, running his fingers through messy black hair. This might be the best Christmas he ever had, Draco thought. Who needs piles of gifts from Father Christmas when he could have the savior of the wizarding world enveloping him in searing embraces? How did one get so lucky?

“Am I interrupting something, then?” a voice called from inside the room. The two jumped apart immediately and turned towards the voice.

Harry grinned. “You’re here!” He slammed himself into Sirius and hugged him tightly. “I can’t believe this—you’re really here and alive.”

Sirius just laughed. The Garden had healed him quite nicely, Draco noticed. He looked so young: shoulder length hair falling easily around him, tip-top physique, no prison markings in sight. It was like he was reverted back to his pre-war photographs. “You look so young,” Draco blurted out, unable to keep his thoughts in check.

Sirius looked up at Draco and grinned a Harry grin, blue eyes bright and alive. “I know,” he said. “Isn’t it odd?”

“Canines are a bit pointy,” Draco commented, putting bits and pieces together as he continued to size up the newly minted Lord Black. Harry pulled back to get an eye at the teeth too.

“They’re a bit like mine,” Harry showed Sirius.

“Yeah, I think the Garden upped the vampire gene in the healing process. No blood cravings yet though so I’m not complaining. Why are you so pointy?”

Harry blanched, suddenly realizing that he shouldn’t have that much of the gene present if he wasn’t donated a core. “Uh…” he said lamely.

Sirius quirked an eyebrow.

“I think it has to do with fighting the adoption spell,” Harry lied. “I have more of the gene inside of me than normal. You look like you’re in your twenties,” he said, trying to distract the wizard.

Sirius’s eyes narrowed in suspicion but he didn’t press any further. “I don’t think the Garden knew when to stop. I got thrown into Azkaban at 22. I think it reverse-aged me a bit.”

“That’s wicked.”

Sirius just laughed again. “So you two seem cozy,” he said, winking at Draco, who turned a lovely shade of pink. “Totally not what I would’ve expected.”

“You missed a lot,” Harry replied, avoiding the fact that his father caught him snogging his boyfriend the first moment he rose from the dead.

“Remus promised to catch me up later but I wanted to say hello. You two can stay in these rooms if you want. I can camp out in Regulus’s room. Next door. Hearing everything the two of you might be getting up to, mind.”

Draco’s face would never return to its pale hue, he was convinced.

“Is Remus telling you _everything_ everything?”

Sirius looked at Harry suspiciously again. “I feel like you aren’t disclosing something to me, Harrison James.”

Harry just shrugged. “It’s been a long seven months. Is my first name really Harrison? I’ve just been going by it.”

Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Those Muggles. Yes, Harrison is your actual name. I swear if I ever run into them in a dark corner…”

“Let’s keep you out of Azkaban, yeah? Want to get some breakfast?”

Sirius lit up at that. “Yes. Can’t wait to see Molly.”

“And she can’t wait to see you,” Draco replied sarcastically.

The trio travelled down the stairs to a lovely Christmas morning scene: everyone was gathered around the tree, scoping out presents or eating sweets. Sirius was staring at it in shock. “Where did you manage to unearth _that thing_?” he asked. “Haven’t seen it in years.”

Molly looked up from her knitting and offered a forced sort of smile. “We did a bit more cleaning and found it. Do you not like it?”

Sirius looked to be torn between two responses. He had the strangest feeling that Molly was baiting him. At Remus’s warning glare, he chose kindness. “No, it’s fine: I was just a bit surprised is all, as I’m sure everyone is about me.” He smiled. “I would have gotten everyone presents but I’ve been a bit tied up. Happy Christmas.”

Molly blinked at the non-response. “Yes, we _were_ quite surprised but have been warned. We’re excited to have you back, for Harry’s sake.”

Harry just grimaced, looking more like James with that facial expression than anything else. “Is it sweets for breakfast?” he asked, trying to break the tension in the room.

“Oh no dear, Ron just can’t help himself. There’s a full spread in the kitchen—go on then.” Molly smiled warmly at Harry, ignoring Ron’s protesting in the background.

The rest of Christmas morning was uneventful. Molly and Sirius seemed to be getting on well and good, most likely because they weren’t discussing things like Harry’s involvement in “adult wizard affairs.” Everyone spent the majority of the morning and early afternoon opening gifts.

While that was going on and everyone was distracted, Remus and Sirius snuck away in order to bring the returned Black up to speed on everything.

“You need to be in father mode, Sirius,” Remus began once they had settled on the back patio, away from prying eyes.

Sirius nodded around his tea, eyes a little dark. “I know. I’ve made quite a few mistakes with him, trying to be a friend rather than a guardian. I didn’t want to step on James’s toes, you know?” Remus hummed in agreement, all too familiar with that feeling as of late. “Now that I know I’m actually his parent, I don’t feel like I’m overstepping any boundaries. He hasn’t had a parent, though, Rem. It might be too little too late.”

Remus ran his hand through his sandy hair, not thrilled to be explaining why they were already past that juncture. “He’s had a pretty rough go since you’ve been gone.”

“How so?”

“He’s—well, inherited your depression, I’m afraid. With James’s anxiety to boot. Always been there under the surface, I suspect. He was always pretty quiet and having a Dark Lord after you since birth doesn’t help. He’s been a bit of a mess, really.”

Sirius frowned, remembering his struggles with mental health over the years. “How’s it been manifesting?”

Remus sighed. “Manically. They’re thinking he’s on the bipolar spectrum but haven’t officially diagnosed him. He’s been going to therapy and it seems to be helping him a lot. I’m sure you being back is also helping. He…” Remus stopped himself, unable to get it out.

“He what, Rem?” Sirius was becoming more concerned by the minute. If he inherited the mental health issues of both himself and James, Harry would need all of the support he could get. Sirius squeezed Remus’s hand gently when he noticed his distress. “You’ve been doing a brilliant job keeping it together for both Harry and Draco. I know it’s been a little off the rails. What happened?”

Remus frowned. “He tried to take his life about a month ago.” Sirius gasped involuntarily at that. Remus looked up at his friend in disdain. “He was drinking a lot and it got entirely out of hand. His grades were suffering, he was on probation from Quidditch, and his magic was going haywire. It was out of control. Professor McGonagall cut off his supply when she found out even though Dumbledore didn’t seem concerned. He played perfect student after that.”

Sirius rubbed his face in his hands, suddenly very tired and overwhelmed. “Textbook isn’t it? Throwing everyone off the trail?”

Remus just nodded. “Draco found him bleeding out in Myrtle’s bathroom during a Prefect patrol. He managed to heal him: took half his core. That’s why he has the cane right now: atrophied his legs during the healing process. He just got out of the hospital a little over a week ago.”

Sirius slowly blinked. “A Malfoy healer? That’s got to be the first in a few generations. He loves Harry, huh?”

“Looks to be the case. Not sure if Harry realizes that, though. Harry’s going to be upset for me telling you but you need to know.”

“Thanks for telling me. I wish I could have been here to help.” Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose. “What an awful idea we had, splitting up everyone. Turned out disastrously.”

Remus’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean ‘we had?’ We were all Confunded, obviously.”

Sirius sighed and stood, rooting through the shelves for some _Fairylights Vodka_. “I need something stronger for this conversation, sorry. Why is there a lock on the liquor cabinet: oh right.”

Remus rolled his eyes and spelled the cabinet open. “Thanks, Moony.” Remus softened at the nickname but was still on high alert. What did Sirius have to say?

Sirius poured himself a bit of the vodka over some ice, pouring one for Remus as well. He handed the glass to him. “Here, you’re going to want this, probably.”

Remus took it begrudgingly. “Long story, then?”

Sirius hummed in confirmation. After taking a slow sip from his glass, he began to explain. “The Garden healed me well past where it should have.”

Remus nodded. “Figured as much: you look very young.”

“Speak for yourself, practically immortal wolf-person,” Sirius quipped, but he winked at Remus in jest.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if your lifespan dramatically increased too if your canines are anything to go by.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll get poked and prodded by a Healer sometime after the war but that’s besides the point. I think it pushed me all the way back to when we were Confunded. My mind is pretty clear on the Harry situation.”

Remus leaned forward unexpectedly. “I have been trying to pry it out of Dumbledore ever since we found out something was off but he wasn’t budging. What happened?”

“It was strategic. We were trying to keep Harry safe.”

“Figured as much but I don’t get the logic. What do you mean ‘we?’”

“All of us: Lily, you, James. Peter wasn’t romantically involved so he didn’t really know about much of it. We had Dumbledore’s help. Jamie got pregnant and it was obvious Harry was mine. The prophecy aligned with the due date: we defied him three times and he was going to be born as July died. It was us or the Longbottoms.”

“You tried to get him to target the Longbottoms?” Remus was beginning to feel ill.

“ _We_ didn’t try to get him to target anyone! We just wanted to protect ourselves and we had the opportunity. It was war.”

“I know, I know. This is just a lot at once. Keep going, sorry.”

“Anyway, we didn’t know he was a Halfblood and thought he’d want a Pureblood so we did the most logical thing we could think of.”

Remus nodded, his mind slowly unclouding around the events. “Have Lily adopt Harry.”

“It was only meant to be temporary. James was really upset. He didn’t want to do it: he didn’t want to relegate me to less than a parent. I was willing to do anything to protect them and coaxed him into agreeing. I think we had about two days as parents together before we were Confunded. It was really hard.”

Remus rubbed his temples as a migraine began to form. The Confundus was lifting and it was painful. He was getting glimpses of a cuddled up James, Sirius, and newborn Harry in his mind, and suddenly lots of crying and sadness. “It didn’t work, though: he was still targeted.”

Sirius shook his head in disdain. “I didn’t realize He was a Halfblood. I would have never thought it was a good idea if I did: of course He’d want to pick someone as like Him as possible. Should have done our research.”

Remus’s lips formed a thin line. “I’m sure Dumbledore did.”

“Me too.” The malaise of that statement and what it meant for Harry’s life hung in the air for a while after that. Dumbledore handpicked his pawn for the greater good, it seemed.

After a while, Sirius spoke again. “We ruined his life. We should have just stuck with the original plan. It caused all of this suspicion and we put our trust in the wrong person.” Remus didn’t know if he meant Peter or Dumbledore at that moment. Sirius put his face in his hands. “I missed so much time with him—I thought Dumbledore would have lifted the spell but it makes sense: the Dursleys would be able to protect Harry with the spell still in place. I’m sure he knew he was on borrowed time with it but it was a stop gap. I really need to talk to Dumbledore. I need to find out his plans.”

Remus rubbed Sirius’s shoulder gently. “We’re going to make it right for him. I know he’s practically grown but he still needs you.”

“I’m scared he’s already in too deep.”

“We’ll hold a light out for him. It’ll be okay.”

Sirius allowed Remus to envelop him in a soul-crushing hug, not knowing what he did to deserve the werewolf’s grace. They would make it right together.


	17. Chapter 17

When Sirius and Remus finally returned from their long conversation, Harry wasn’t anywhere to be found. Draco was looking a bit distressed although everyone else hadn’t seemed to notice, busy unwrapping gifts and playing games. When Draco saw the two men, he shakily stood with the help of his cane, wincing at the movement after being still for awhile.

“Remus, can you check on him?” he asked in a low voice, not wasting time with a greeting. “He was scratching his hands to bits in a fit of anxiety and then decided to go upstairs for a little while. I’m worried.”

Remus frowned. “Scratching his hands?” The Healers had warned him to watch out for new tics—this seemed to be one of them.

Draco nodded, wintry eyes tight with concern. “He said it was due to nicotine withdrawal. I dunno about that, though. I think he was having an anxiety attack when he noticed the two of you went off.”

Sirius interrupted the two. “Is it okay if I check on him, you think?” he asked. Draco looked over in surprise. “It’s just that I know he’s probably worried about Remus telling me about what happened. I think it’ll be better if I can talk to him about it.”

“I dunno if that’s a good idea,” Draco protested. “He’s really fragile.”

The Animagus turned to Remus. “Rem what do you think?”

Remus looked at Sirius for a long moment, eyes bright with worry. “I’m not sure.”

Sirius sighed, frustrated that he was being blocked from his parental duties. “Can I at least try the Dad thing? We’ll have to talk eventually.”

Remus could see where Sirius was coming from. He had to look past the young face to see the 36 year old underneath. He knew he wanted to help. “You need to approach him carefully, okay? He could be manic right now.”

“Why wouldn’t they put him on a potions regimen?”

“I think they need to have more sessions with him to figure out the best course of treatment. Right now, we just need to help him.”

Sirius nodded. “Okay.”

The elder Black made his way to his old bedroom, worried about what he might find beyond the door. He had lost so much time with Harry and it was hard to tell if the teen would let him in. When he arrived at the door he paused for a moment, trying to hear what was going on inside. He heard heavy breathing and a whispered “ _Not again,_ ” causing immediate concern.

Sirius knocked. “Hey, it’s Sirius,” he voiced. “Can I come in.”

“Uh,” was the immediate reply. He heard a but of shuffling and then a “I guess.”

The Animagus opened the door, a little weary of what he might find inside. He was met with slight chaos.

The loose objects in the room were shaking with wild magic. Papers were flying around the room in a wind tunnel and the windows were clattering. Harry was at the center of the room, sat on his bed, and had his eyes squeezed shut, looking to be concentrating on breathing. Sirius quickly sat next to him, taking his hands in his own. Harry squeezed them tightly, letting out a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I thought I had this under control.”

“It’s okay, babe,” Sirius replied, very familiar with James’s teenage episodes and what to do when the room just couldn’t stay still. “Just focus on breathing, yeah? I’ll breathe with you.”

Harry just nodded, lost in his own anxious thoughts. What did Sirius know? Did Remus really tell him everything? Did he think less of him now? The shaking was getting worse as his thoughts spiraled out of control.

Sirius gripped a little tighter as he noticed the room dissolving into more chaos. Harry was quickly losing his nerve. “Try clearing your mind, yeah?”

Harry huffed out a laugh. “I’m notoriously bad at that, remember?” They were floating a bit off the ground now as Harry began voicing his anxieties. “Can’t occlude. Can’t do anything right.” The lights were flickering as Harry let out another shuddering breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Sirius rubbed soothing circles over the tops of Harry’s hands with his thumbs. “Yes you can. You just had a shite teacher is all. Let’s try something: I want you to picture all of your rampant thoughts in a cluttered room.”

“What?” This was never in his Occlumency lessons.

“Just go with it okay?”

Harry nodded, willing to try anything. He pictured the Gryffindor Common Room, filled to the brim with stacks of papers with various running thoughts being scratched on them with Quik Notes Quills. It was chaos. “Okay I’m in the room. Now what?”

Sirius smiled. “Good. Now picture the clutter being placed into neat boxes or files. Maybe you’re sweeping them into a bin, one by one.”

As Harry concentrated on filing the reams of paper in the Gryffindor Common Room into neatly labeled cabinets, the chaos in the room began to die down. Over several minutes of deep breathing and concentration, with Sirius interjecting with encouraging words, the objects slowly found their resting places, as did Sirius and Harry as they reached the ground. Harry opened his eyes, finally, looking up into his father’s, who still had some height on him despite the growth spurt. It was quiet in his mind once again. He let out a sigh of relief. “How’d you do that?” Harry asked, laying back onto the bed in pure exhaustion.

Sirius just smiled. “It was all you, kid. But, if you must know where the method came from, it was practice with your Dad.” Harry looked up at that in surprise. “His anxiety manifested like that, too. People were downright afraid of it sometimes; his desk was always several feet off the ground when he was studying. Always took someone else to help ground him: sometimes me, sometimes Lily, sometimes Re. Even Peter,” he added begrudgingly. “Anxiety attacks are not fun, especially not when you’re magic and powerful.”

“I didn’t know he had anxiety,” Harry said. “I know nothing about him,” he added, a bit put out by that notion.

Sirius sat himself at the edge of the bed, giving Harry’s hand a light squeeze. “Well you can get to know him all you want now.” Harry just nodded tightly at that, not wanting to speak further. “What triggered your anxiety attack, do you know?” Sirius chanced.

Harry curled up a bit in defense, tucking his chin closer to his chest. Sirius couldn’t help but see Regulus in Harry, remembering back to a time where he was similarly comforting his brother after a rough night of etiquette lessons gone bad. His heart broke slightly at the comparison. “You know everything now, don’t you?” he asked in a small voice.

Sirius sighed but nodded. “I do, babe,” he said, slipping into his pet name for Harry from when he actually was a baby.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut at the confirmation, willing tears back. The bedside table began to rattle some. Sirius just squeezed his hand gently. “I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

“Of course I’m not disappointed in you! You unfortunately inherited my depression, babe. That doesn’t make you weak.” Sirius brushed Harry’s wild mane back gently with his fingers, wondering if it was a step too far. He couldn’t help but reach out after hearing how broken he was feeling.

Harry looked at him with wide, glassy green eyes. “You have depression?” he asked.

Sirius nodded solemnly. “It crushed me when I was your age. I remember it all being too much. Wasn’t too much better in adulthood either, to be quite honest.”

“Did you try to…you know.”

Another nod. Harry was surprised by this. “Only once.”

“Why?”

Sirius sat back against the headboard, contemplating if he should really delve into his past. “I didn’t have the best upbringing.”

Harry nodded, uncurling to sit up with his father. “I know that. Walburga is always screaming about you.” Sirius grimaced at that. “Is that why?”

“Well, no not really. Are you sure you want to know about this? It’s kind of dark.”

“I really don’t know much about you. It would help.”

Sirius frowned, looking ahead towards the door rather than at his son. “I was betrothed to Draco’s dad when I was younger. He hated everything that made me me and was content with trying to beat it out of me. He hit me a lot.”

Harry was frowning now too. “Draco’s dad?”

“Yeah. When I told my parents my mum just told me to deal with it, even when he cracked a bunch of my ribs. All she could see was the family connection it would bring: she didn’t really care about what it would take for that connection.”

“And your dad?”

Sirius sighed. “My dad wasn’t much help either. He probably encouraged it behind closed doors. It was suffocating.”

“Like you can’t breathe properly?” Harry chanced.

Sirius nodded. “I wanted out. Tried drowning myself in the Prefects’ bathroom. Remus found me and pulled me up in time. He was horrified.” Sirius had a far away look in his eyes, thinking back to that terrible affair. He ran away from home shortly after that, realizing he had alternate means of escape.

“Draco found me,” Harry said, puling Sirius from his thoughts.

“Re told me. You’re very lucky.”

Harry flushed. “Do you think his dad…”

“Hits him?” Sirius asked when Harry couldn’t go on. Harry just nodded tightly. “I don’t think so. I’m sure he’s moved on to more sophisticated means of torment.”

“He let Voldemort have Fenrir turn Draco into a werewolf.”

“He _what_?”

“It was his punishment for losing the prophecy. His ‘pure’ son tarnished. Draco requested asylum before it all went down but he was intercepted.”

Sirius shook his head in disbelief. “That’s low even for Malfoy.”

“Draco said he was _Imperiused_ and locked in the dungeons with Fenrir. He couldn’t even fight.”

Sirius rubbed his face tiredly. This new war seemed to be even more high stakes and terrifying than the previous one. It was almost too much to think about on his first day back. “That’s awful.”

“Then his dad disowned him and kicked him out of the Manor.”

“Now that I can totally believe.”

Harry sighed a little brokenly. “There’s just so much evil in the world and it weighs on my chest constantly. I need to end it. It has to be me.”

Sirius wrapped an arm around Harry, who leaned into his father’s embrace. “It doesn’t have to be you, babe.”

“But the prophecy—”

“Prophecies aren’t always accurate.”

“Dumbledore said—”

“Dumbledore is on my list right now,” Sirius said curtly. “Don’t worry about what he said. For now, let’s just worry about Christmas, yeah?”

Harry nodded. “Thanks for helping me breathe,” he said finally, “I’ve never been able to come down that fast.”

Sirius smiled, happy to have done at least something right. “Anytime.”

“I just thought I’d be cured by now. I’ve been doing therapy since the incident. I snapped into anxiety and depression like it was nothing.”

“Therapy isn’t a panacea, but it helps. You can’t cure depression. Or anxiety for that matter. You can manage it, though. It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”

Harry drew his knees to his chest. “I don’t want to go on potions.”

“We’ll talk about that when we get there.”

They were silent for a bit after that. “I’m not used to this—having a Dad,” Harry admitted. Sirius felt panicked for a moment, worried that he was already overstepping. “It’s nice.”

Sirius let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Well I’m trying my best. Never been a father. First day on the job and all.”

Harry nodded. “You’re doing a good job, I think. Remus too.”

Sirius smiled. “Re has always been the parental type. Jamie and I—more hopeless I’m afraid. You’ll have to be a bit patient.”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t have much to go off of so I think you’re good. Can I see Dad today? I think it would make me feel better.”

“Of course you can. You needn’t ask. He’ll be thrilled.” Sirius grinned at him. “What do you think, after dinner?” At Harry’s nod, Sirius squeezed his shoulder gently. “Perfect.”

The rest of Christmas Day was pretty uneventful for Harry. After his panic attack which threw any notions of him being cured out the window, Harry let himself breathe a bit. He didn’t have to worry about being the perfect after-patient. He could be himself and that was okay.

He visited his Dad by himself for a little while after dinner, leaving even Sirius behind. He wanted to have quality time with the man he spent his whole life wondering about but never had the chance to figure out. It was therapeutic to sit with his father in the Garden and decompress a bit about his anxious episode. James smiled in understanding as Harry recounted his panic attack, noting how Sirius handled the situation with a practiced ease.

“Sirius is the best for panic attacks,” James said when Harry finished his story. “I’d have them so regularly everyone was on a constant swing shift with me.”

“Why would you get them?” Harry asked.

James just shrugged. “I dunno. Sometimes I was triggered by something—most of the time I couldn’t control a negative thought and got caught in a spiral. It was tough during the war. I rarely slept.”

“Do you get them now?”

“Sometimes. You’d be surprised how much the afterlife is like the living world. Pretty similar living situation except nobody really works. Lots of free time to panic about nothing,” James joked.

“Do you cross to visit mum?” Harry asked, still not able to fully reconcile Lily as anything but.

James smiled at the name. “Yeah, I see Lils a lot. I honestly wish she could come here: it’s kind of nice and tranquil don’t you think?”

Harry just nodded. “I wish I could talk to her. I want to know why she did this to me.”

James frowned. “Didn’t Sirius tell you? The Garden healed his Confundus. Apparently it was a plan we all agreed to. I wasn’t thrilled about it, though, I’ll have you know.”

Harry grimaced. “I don’t think he had time to fill me in, what with the panic attack and Christmas festivities. It’s been a very long day. So everyone tricked me? That’s not great.” But Harry wasn’t angry, he was surprised to realize. He had finally reached acceptance about his true heritage: he was more confused about the reasoning than anything.

“We were trying to give you the best shot possible. We didn’t think Voldemort would target a Halfblood over a Pureblood.”

“That’s kind of worse: you guys were trying to get him to pick some poor other kid.”

It was James’s turn to grimace. “Not proud of it, mate. We just wanted to keep you safe. We obviously failed in that regard. I think Dumbledore never lifted the spell so you could be protected by Lily’s family.”

Harry nodded. “I think that makes sense, but I’m not happy about it.”

“Me either. And I’ll have a lot to say to him when he crosses. I’m just glad you have Seer now, even if I can’t be around.” James looked a bit downtrodden at that. It made Harry’s heart swell in a bit of despair.

Harry hugged James suddenly, overwhelmed with the sadness of all the time they lost. “You’re around,” he said. “We’re moving here and I’ll be able to see you every single day.”

James carded his fingers through Harry’s hair, happy to have him around for the moment. “I don’t want you wasting away in Black Manor. I can always check in from afar.”

“It wouldn’t be wasting away. The Manor is actually really nice. And it’s _safe_. I feel like I can actually breathe properly here. Seeing you is an added bonus,” Harry reassured.

James just laughed. Harry was happy to realize he had inherited his own laughter from him. At least that was something they could still share genetically. “If you say so, Hare.”

Harry pulled away from James, smiling a genuine smile that he hasn’t been able to pull off since before the incident. “I’m so glad Draco told me about this place. This is the best Christmas I’ve ever had, anxiety attacks aside.”

“This is the best Christmas I’ve had in awhile, too. I’m glad you came by.”

When Harry returned to Grimmauld Place, almost everyone had gone to bed. Draco was in the tapestry room nursing a mug of hot chocolate opposite Remus. They were both facing the tapestry, away from the fireplace and seemed to be having a deep conversation, not noticing Harry stepping through.

“It’s going to get better, Draco. The cane won’t be forever and you’ve been getting on well with everyone. You’ve made so much progress.” Remus said. Draco was wiping his face with the sleeve of his sweater: a gift from Molly. It was a deep shade of blue with a white ‘D’ on the front and had almost made Draco burst into tears when he opened it.

“I feel like a complete fraud.” Draco said. “Everyone has been so painfully nice to me lately and I don’t even deserve it. I wish I had just died saving him sometimes. I can’t take the despair any longer.”

Remus rose to gather Draco in his arms as the blonde sobbed. Harry felt like he was intruding on a very private moment but still couldn’t believe his ears: what was Draco even saying? “You’re not a fraud and I’m so, so glad you didn’t die. People are being nice to you because you have truly become friends with them, not because of pity.”

“Why is everything so complicated now?” the blonde cried, having a bit of a meltdown. “I just want to go back to being a Third Year prat before everything hit the fan.”

Remus was rubbing soothing circles on Draco’s back. “Voldemort coming back really shook your family dynamic. Not to mention the whole werewolf thing. It’s natural to feel so lost. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

“Draco?” Harry voiced, not wanting to keep his presence a secret any longer.

Draco jumped and pulled away from Remus. “You’re back,” he said, trying to wipe the tears away.

“Yeah, just now. What’s wrong?”

Draco just shook his head. “I just miss my mum. It’s fine.”

Remus frowned but didn’t out him.

Draco forced a smile on his face. “How’s your Dad?”

Harry wasn’t buying it. He pulled Draco into his arms, standing on his tip toes to properly envelop him.

“I can handle your bad days, you know,” he murmured into his ear, “you’ve dealt with plenty of mine.”

Draco willed back tears and pulled away from Harry. “I think it’s just Christmas stress gone to my head. I really _do_ miss my mum.”

“The holidays can be rough without family,” Harry remarked.

“I feel like a misfit here,” Draco admitted, looking down in shame.

“You’re not. Mrs. Weasley even knit you a sweater.”

Draco let out a shaky laugh at that. “I think she was just trying to be nice.”

“Nope. Molly Weasley only knits for those she cares for,” Remus interjected. “Ask Sirius: never got a sweater.”

“He got one this year,” Draco protested.

“I think she’s warming up to him.”

“You’re going to have to deal with the fact that you’re part of the brood now,” Harry commented. “No longer prissy Malfoy and all that.”

Draco sighed. “I have a lot of dissonance about that. I feel like I’m betraying my family.”

“Your family betrayed you.” Draco didn’t argue with that. “Plus, the moon is coming in about a week and you’re always irritable and sensitive beforehand.”

Draco nodded. “You’re right.” He looked completely distraught still and Harry couldn’t help but pull him into another hug. “This feels like a role-reversal,” Draco commented.

“Not really. We’re both a little fucked up.”

“That’s nice. ‘Draco, we’re so unstable a galaxy might explode between us. Happy Christmas,’” he said, trying to mimic Harry’s accent.

Harry burst out laughing. “That is not what I sound like, mate. I grew up in Surrey, not Bristol.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Not all of us can have a forced RP, you know.”

“It’s not forced.”

“Mhmm like you aren’t a moonraker at heart.”

Draco scoffed. “Just because I live in Wiltshire doesn’t mean—”

But Harry cut him off with a kiss. “Only joking, Draco. Not a whiff of West Country on you, I promise.”

Draco rolled his eyes but smiled. “Whatever. Up for a round of chess: is that good enough for your posh Surrey sensibilities?”

Harry cuffed him on the arm playfully. “Surely.”

Remus just smiled at their antics: their little misfit family was going to be alright, it seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure whether to characterize this chapter as angst or fluff...maybe a bit of character exposition? Anyway, please berate my horrid understanding of UK regions in the comments!
> 
> Thanks for reading, guys.


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